Otousan's Lies
by Maeli
Summary: They'd always thought he was a normal child, 'normal' for a Himura, anyway, until that audacious announcement . . . Kenji wanted to find Hitokiri Battousai. Maybe they should have told him the truth a little earlier . . .
1. Mortality

I've been working on this story for months, and here's the beginning of what I've finally come to. Enjoy. _Maeli_

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter 1: Mortality**

Each labored, fading footstep made the blood in Kenshin's head pound as he stood paralyzed with terror, shallowly gasping for breath as rising bile burned his throat. His eyes jerked to his wife, who stood staring through the open door behind him, motionless and white as a corpse. She twitched as the dojo's squeaky gate swung violently open, then darted blindly forward in pursuit of he who was fleeing, tripping straight through the fresh pool of blood on the floor.

She stumbled to a halt as Kenshin caught her wrist with his cold, quivering hand.

"Let go, Kenshin!" she panted, "he's leaving again, he's—come back! _Come back!_" She pulled uselessly against his icy grip. "Don't leave again, please . . . let me _go!_ I have to stop him, I have to save him . . . he didn't know, he didn't know what he was doing, he couldn't—"

A tear splashed near Kenshin's foot as her hopeless wail broke off with a choking sob. She descended to her knees as the swinging gate slowed and finally stopped. There was a trail of blood leading to it down the steps and through the dark courtyard, still moist and red. Kaoru reached forward to touch the closest warm red puddle.

"What have we done?" she whispered slowly, "our baby, he's gone . . ."

Kenshin dropped his head and shuddered as Kaoru's words became unintelligible and her voice degenerated to pained, hysterical weeping. He'd never heard her cry like that. No one had. She hadn't allowed it since her father died.

"Kaoru," he murmured, tears gathering in his eyes, "I'm so _sorry_ . . ."

He heard her rise suddenly behind him and turned in time for his distraught wife to collapse weakly against him.

"It's not your fault, Kenshin," she whispered fiercely. "Please don't blame yourself for this."

Not his fault?

Of course it was his fault. _He_ had chosen to lie, to hide his very identity from their son. He had made the mistake of thinking it would protect him. He had been foolish enough to assume he would never figure it out. _He_ had failed as a father, had dismissed and attempted to suppress his son's abnormal gift for swordsmanship, had lied and treated the near man as a child, and now the boy's rebelliousness had become fatal. He had pushed away their son, he had hurt Kaoru, and now someone was dead.

It was _all_ his fault.

Kaoru clenched her eyes shut as Kenshin abruptly clutched her kimono with the intensity of a frightened toddler. His tears soaked through her clothing; his embrace was so tight that she would have told him he was hurting her if the discomfort wasn't overwhelmed in sorrow. Instead she only squeezed back, refusing to look at the guilt eclipsing his face.

"I should have seen it coming," Kenshin cried haggardly. Kaoru's eyes stung and she pushed her head into his chest.

"I want him back, Kenshin. I want Kenji."

When had this nightmare begun? There had been no warning, no signs, no reason to suspect that something was wrong . . . but Kenji had suddenly become their enemy.

What had gone wrong that day, a month ago?

* * *

_Stop running!_

"I can't!" Kenji heaved as his eyes flitted back and forth with escalating panic. "I have to get away from the dojo, have to get away from them—"

_She's losing blood._

"I know!"

He clutched the girl in his arms closer with feverish terror and desperately maximized his speed, ignoring the red stickiness soaking through his gi.

"Have to save her—"

_Yahiko!_

His house was right there, right in front of him. Yahiko would help, right? Yahiko would—

"No!"

Yahiko might help, but then he'd go straight to the dojo for Kenshin. He couldn't risk that. He couldn't be found by them . . .

He couldn't hear her breathing.

"Yahiko!"

He threw his shoulder repeatedly against the door, continuing to scream urgently. And there were footsteps . . . footsteps! Someone was coming . . .

"Hello?" a groggy voice asked.

"Yahiko, it's me! Open the door!"

Kenji heard the lock click and smiled in exhausted relief.

"Hurry Yahiko, we have to help her!"

The door remained shut.

"Help _her?_" Yahiko asked tentatively. "That girl from before? The one helping you look for . . . for Battousai?"

Kenji had the sudden urge to retch. He _knew_ this was a stupid idea.

"Yahiko," he gasped, slipping to his knees, "please don't do this . . ."

"Kenji, I won't—"

"Yahiko . . ." Kenji suddenly whimpered, and the man on the other side of the door froze as he realized the boy was crying.

The door slid slowly open and Kenji raised his head to see Yahiko step backwards, his face portraying horrified disbelief.

He probably would have reacted in the same way if he had found his surrogate brother kneeling on his doorstep, carrying a corpse and doused in new blood.

"Please help me, Yahiko. She's dying."

"Kenji," Yahiko gasped tearfully, crouching in front of him, "what have you done?"


	2. A Month Before

Hey! Thanks reviewers, you guys are awesome. As you all can hopefully deduce from the title, this chapter starts about a month before what we saw in the last chapter, so you can all see the build-up (I know it was vague—you're not supposed to get it yet). And a little side note—although you can assume that the Jinchuu arc happened in this story there may be a few negligible details that coincide more with the anime since I saw it first and I'm more familiar with it, nothing earth-shattering, though. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Two: A Month Before**

"I know, I know, I'm going!" Kenji muttered crossly, forcefully kicking the gate shut on Yahiko's lofty smirk. That stupid lying cheater, he had challenged Kenji to a _duel _to decide who would buy the tofu, not a match to see who could use the cheapest tricks. The forbidden technique-"wrath of the end of the era", what kind of dirty excuse for a move was that? And the worst part was that it had worked. Kenji would have had him, if not for that sudden and unexpected blow Kenji _thought_ was intended for his stomach, until Yahiko's foot had veered lower . . .

"That sick little piece of—"

"And don't forget some bandages!" Yahiko called, drawing a smile from Kenji. At least he had that on Yahiko, it was _his_ blood on the training hall's floor, not Kenji's. It had just been a small cut, but they were only using bokkens. The hit certainly wasn't anything to be ashamed of. And Yahiko was lucky Kaoru had stopped the match when she did, or there would have been a lot more of that cheater's blood staining the wood floor.

Yahiko shook his head on the other side of the gate, absently touching the injury on his cheek and smiling. Kenji probably wouldn't speak to him for days, furious that the master of the thousand shiratori had sunk so low just to avoid the embarrassment of being outmatched by a mere teenager. Yahiko only wished it was that simple.

He had known during the fight that none of the Kamiya Kasshin's techniques would catch Kenji off guard, not even the Hawatari (Kenji had mastered it when he was eight), but Yahiko had a few old tricks up his sleeve even Kaoru would be surprised by. Of course, he didn't plan on using something as crude as _that_ technique, but as Kenji had leapt swiftly into the air and prepared to descend upon him with raised sword Yahiko honestly hadn't known what else to do. So he attacked, reducing Kenji to a furious, cursing heap while he could only stare weakly at the obscenity-flinging, would-be victor of the match. Because he had been on the receiving end of that attack before. He had _performed_ it before, but the last time he had seen it so flawlessly executed, he had been only ten. And a very different redhead had been the deliverer.

_How on earth can Kenji do the Ryu Tsui Sen?_

Kaoru couldn't have taught him, Kenshin never would have (as far as Kenji was concerned his father had never even used a sword) and despite Kaoru's dubiousness Yahiko hadn't either. The only other individual who _could_ have was Hiko, but Kenji had never set foot in Kyoto, his parents had made sure of that.

But how, then?

"Did you see?" he asked quietly, addressing the redhead seated back on the engawa.

Kenshin nodded. "It seems that someone has been a bit too lax in describing Hitokiri Battousai's style to our son," he murmured.

"_Describing _it?" Kaoru whispered skeptically. "You really think he can do that after just hearing about it?"

"You know how fast he mastered everything you could teach him," Kenshin answered, and Kaoru frowned, reading the question behind his empty expression.

"He doesn't know, Kenshin. You realize that, right?"

"But what if—"

"She's right," Yahiko interrupted, "if he had discovered the truth about your past we would know about it. He isn't one to keep that kind of finding a secret."

"Besides, he's a good kid, Kenshin. I'm sure he didn't even realize what he was doing."

Kenshin smiled insincerely at his wife with a nod. At least one of them had faith in their son. Because while Kaoru seemed confident in a coincidence, to Kenshin that move had been more than uncomfortable chance. Kenji had always been a prodigy, he had always been stubborn and headstrong, he had always held an unwavering determination to be the strongest pupil his mother would ever see, the strongest swordsman period, for that matter. But being capable of a complicated style only two aging men should have known how to carry out that well, that simply wasn't normal.

He wanted to believe Kaoru. He wanted to think it wasn't a big deal, that it was _Kenji_ they were talking about, this sort of thing should be expected, and as long as he didn't realize just how powerful he was everything would be fine. But that would be naive.

* * *

Near the riverbank Kenji had restlessly collapsed onto the warm grass, face down, with a still empty tofu bucket in hand.

What a _joke._ He had seen the looks on his parents' faces when the match had drawn to a close. And he knew it wasn't Yahiko's attack that had shocked them, but his own. He should have known better than to let them see what he could do. But honestly, just because it wasn't Kamiya Kasshin . . .

"Kenji?"

Great, his father. Didn't they even trust him to run simple errands?

Kenji rolled onto his side and opened one eye, shielding the other from the sun with his arm.

"Otousan."

Kenshin seated himself near his reclining son, fixing his eyes on the river. "That was an interesting match." Kenji scowled and rolled back onto his stomach. And so it began, another one of his father's seemingly nonchalant and increasingly irritating interrogations.

"Yeah," he muttered, "what of it?"

"I didn't recognize the move you tried at the end. Did your mother teach you?" Kenji snorted.

"No."

"Ah, taking secret lessons at the Maekawa dojo behind our backs, are you?"

"No Otousan, no one taught me," Kenji murmured in exasperation. "I just . . . heard about it once."

So that _was _it. Now Kenshin only had to figure out who had been telling his son about Hitokiri Battousai . . . as if that would be easy.

"Where?"

"Around."

Kenshin sighed tiredly, and Kenji smiled to himself. What had his father expected? He wasn't going to just hand all of the answers to him, he wasn't an idiot.

"How long?"

Kenji quirked an eyebrow and slowly raised his head. "What?"

"How long?" his father repeated. "How long have you been trying these techniques without our knowledge?"

Kenji settled back onto the ground, this time facing away from Kenshin.

"Awhile," he offered.

"How _long_, Kenji?"

Kenji fixed his eyes on a spider crawling slowly toward him and exhaled forcefully, driving the arachnid to a sudden halt. If only he could go back and change that match . . . his father was rarely stubborn but he _always_ won on those few occasions when he was, like now. There was no avoiding it, he had to tell him eventually . . .

"A few years."

Kenshin was grateful that his son was looking in the opposite direction, because he imagined the ill feeling he had suddenly experienced hadn't put a particularly pleasant expression on his face. A few _years?_ And none of them had noticed it? Where had he been practicing? When had he been practicing? And most importantly, what? Kenshin had the odd feeling that what they had seen today was barely a hint of what his son was capable of.

"Wa-Why?"

Kenji casually reached for his foot and removed his zori, slapping it down swiftly on the again moving spider. Kenshin winced.

"Because I'm bored, Otousan," Kenji suddenly growled, replacing his shoe. "Did you both honestly expect me to keep training in nothing but the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu when I had learned every technique? It's not satisfying anymore."

"You could teach."

"I don't want to teach, Otousan. I want to be powerful, and this style can't offer me anything."

"Please do not speak of your mother's passion and your livelihood as though it were useless," Kenshin gently scolded.

"I mastered it when I was a kid."

"As did Yahiko."

Kenji immediately soured. "Yeah, and look at what a professional swordsman _he_ is."

"Kenji, he didn't—"

"It doesn't matter," Kenji interrupted, "he _has _to teach anyway. He's got Tsubame and Shinya to support. I don't have those responsibilities."

"Then what is it you want to do?"

Kenji slowly rolled onto his back at the intriguing question, wearing a smile of unnerving audacity. And that's when Kenshin's seemingly flawless plans ground to a too-sudden halt.

"I'm going to find Hitokiri Battousai."

_Battousai?_

For just a moment, everything stopped.

Kenshin choked on nothing, clearing his throat and laughing nervously when Kenji gave him a questioning look. He'd figured that his son had at least heard of Battousai, but wanting to _find_ him?

"H-Hitokiri Battousai?"

"Yeah, Battousai. Do you even know who he is?"

Kenshin didn't know if he should laugh at Kenji's naivete or cry. Did _he_ know who Battousai was? Him, of all the people who could be asked . . .

"I lived through the revolution, Kenji, if you'll remember," Kenshin managed to force out. "I've heard stories. What I want to know is how _you've_ heard of him."

Kenji's face colored in sudden embarrassment. Maybe he should have thought ahead and planned for this part of the conversation . . .

"Kenji . . ."

"I told you already, I've just heard stuff around."

"Around," Kenshin repeated doubtfully.

"Yes."

"Why do I imagine there's a humiliating and illegal story behind this?" Kenshin groaned facetiously.

The shade of Kenji's face deepened.

"Kenji?"

"It wasn't my fault Otousan, I swear!" Kenji blurted. "Yahiko was—"

"Yahiko!"

"Yeah, he was watching me a long time ago and some buddies of some guy named 'Sanosuke' showed up and wanted to go gambling—I guess Yahiko knew them so he took me along and—"

"He took you _with_ him?" Kenshin moaned. "How old were you?"

Kenji cringed instinctively. "Nine?"

"Wha—"

"But they didn't let me drink, I promise! Yahiko got a little tipsy and passed out, and that's when the other guys started talking about Hitokiri Battousai, but that's all that happened!"

"And you were foolish enough to believe their drunken stories and impulsively decided to find the man? And you _still_ haven't grown out of that fantasy?"

Kenji glanced nervously at his father, whose face suddenly seemed darker and more . . . confused?

"Otousan," he started slowly, "their anecdotes may have been slightly vague, but in them I saw the style I'd already mastered severely overshadowed by another. Any man that well-known and skilled _has_ to have more power than Okaasan's dojo can ever offer. I know he exists and I want to learn from him—"

"No!"

Kenji paused and looked disbelievingly at his father. That was a word he'd never heard from this parent, and he never would have expected so much force behind _anything_ Kenshin said.

"What?"

"No. You will not throw your life away searching for a long-forgotten murderer. Do you really think those stories even held any truth? Why didn't you bother to ask your mother and I?"

Kenji sat up and stared at him incredulously. "Are you serious? You honestly think I was stupid and naive enough to ask _you_ about something like that? As if you actually would have _told _me anything . . ."

"At least I wouldn't have lied—"

Kenshin stopped and cringed. He should have phrased that differently. He would have lied. He _had_ lied.

"Well it doesn't matter anymore anyway, now you know."

"If this was your plan, why did you keep training?"

"To avoid suspicion and appease you both, of course. Besides, I wasn't ready to leave and look for him _then, _I was just a kid."

"And when will you be ready?"

"As soon as the right opportunity presents itself."

"You're not going."

"What? Otousan, that's not fair—"

"It's dangerous and foolhardy. You have no idea where he is."

"I'm not a child anymore Otousan!" Kenji cried, standing. "You can't lock me away in the dojo forever!"

"Kenji," Kenshin replied calmly, "you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

But the warning flowed through Kenji unheeded. He only frowned.

"What do you know? You and Okaasan have never seen any _real_ battles, and I don't want boring petty lives like yours! I'm leaving when I'm ready, and you can't stop me!"

Kenshin began massaging his temples. Oh, the irony . . .

"Go home, Kenji."

"No!"

"You're not going."

"_Yes I am!_ You don't know what I'm capable of Otousan, and it's not my fault that you're afraid of it!"

Kenji snatched the tofu bucket from the ground and stormed off, leaving his father staring after him in pensive disappointment. His son was right. Kenshin didn't know what he could do, and he was scared . . . and his son also _was_ growing up, at his age Kenshin had been a widowed assassin . . . though Kenji didn't know that. Kenji didn't know anything, and after all these years they couldn't let that change, could they?

Twenty minutes later Kenji slammed the full tofu bucket down in front of his mother and stalked back out of the dojo, kicking the gate out of the way when he reached it and immediately heading for the docks. It was busy there, they wouldn't find him.

Would they always restrict him like this? They didn't understand his burning desire for more power, his _need_ of it.

"Himura-san?"

Kenji turned angrily on the voice to find a stranger standing behind him, a . . . police officer? Seriously? They had notified the _police _to track him down?

"What do you want?" Kenji demanded roughly.

The man smirked and held out an envelope.

"To present an opportunity."


	3. Alley Contract

Yay reviews! Thanks so much everybody, I hope you keep enjoying this.

**Randa-chan:** I understand your concerns about Saitou, but don't worry. As you guessed he is involved (though that cop wasn't him), but he isn't trying to turn Kenji into another Battousai or anything. He has good(-ish) intentions and can't really be blamed for anything that happens—you'll see as the story progresses. Thanks for your input though, it's always appreciated!

Kairi: roughly 1.15 miles

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Three: Alley Contract**

The unsteady palpitations of Kenji's skittish heart hastened as another resounding peal of thunder jostled the building and his unwinding nerves. A shaky breath followed, while white fingers grasped the hilt at his side and he pushed the shoji ajar, one restless eye peering apprehensively through the small gap.

Nothing. Nothing stood between him and his destination, save some mud and the steadily falling rain, both barely visible in the consuming darkness. The moon would have been rising, if there had been a moon that night. Instead the sky over Tokyo offered only damp emptiness. The city was asleep, and his time had come. He smirked spitefully.

The wooden door moved easily aside under his slow, cautious fingers, and he stepped onto the engawa confidently. The iciness of the rain was unexpected, but negligible, the frigid bullets of water barely causing him to cringe as they seeped through thin black cloth to his clammy skin. He had already traversed the miry courtyard and was halfway up the wall when a candle was lit somewhere behind him. His breath caught and his head whirled around on an anxious neck. They couldn't have caught him _already_.

But a hazy silhouette had arisen inside. The fleeing cringed as the feminine figure yawned and stretched, tying her hair into a ponytail before moving toward the door. He gulped, downing the caustic vomit his body was forcing up in reaction to his sudden panic. Had she heard him? Was that even possible with all the noise this storm was making? Send any assassin or soldier after him, but not _her._ If she discovered him it was all over . . . but despite his nervous protests she was sliding into view, she was entering the darkness, and he hung frozen on the wall in mute terror.

He had always held an odd suspicion that his mother was more than human.

She looked moodily at the falling droplets for a few moments; he didn't move. The slightest twitch would make her see him, after all, the only thing that had prevented it already was his dark clothing.

"Trouble sleeping?"

At first Kenji thought the voice was directed at him. He nearly swore as he realized the truth, a prospect not much better. Not his father _too_.

"Yes, don't worry about it. I'm just a little hungry."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No . . . just go back to sleep."

She and the candle disappeared through another shoji, the flame faded, and he was again doused in gasping shadow. He grinned victoriously. She didn't know yet. As long as she didn't notice his absence for at least another half-hour, all would go according to plan.

He landed quietly on the other side and felt his zori sink into the mud before giving the building one last, resentful glare. At least he was through the worst of it now. He adjusted the pack on his back with a few clothes and the small amount of food and money he had been capable of smuggling out of their view, shifted to the darkest of the shadows, and began to run. Months of planning were finally in action, and he was free, finally free of the oppression and suffocation lingering within those four high walls.

He had only traveled about a kairi when he slid to a halt near a flickering lamp post. The waiting man standing below it casually inhaled on a glowing cigarette with a half-empty box of more in his hand, staring indifferently into the falling rain.

_Wait._

This was _him_? This was the man that was going to provide for Kenji's escape from this place, to help him find Battousai—a middle-aged, chain-smoking police officer (another one)? No way . . .

"It's about time."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Kenji muttered, quelling an impulse to grasp the hilt of his sword as he noticed the other man's weapon. So he was armed, but he was also obviously the elder of the two by a significant margin, much older than even the other officer. The possibility of battle was a small concern for Kenji.

"What is it you want?" Kenji asked impatiently.

The man chuckled in a way that would have made those old drinking buddies of Yahiko's shudder before turning his bestial gaze on Kenji.

"Your assistance. I need you to find someone for me."

"That's it? Your letter sounded more . . . _promising_. I'm no errand boy."

"That wasn't a mere request."

Kenji smirked, crossing his arms defiantly. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I haven't agreed to anything yet. I don't have to do anything for you."

"Is that so?"

Kenji first quirked an eyebrow, then shifted backwards a step as the officer slowly drew his sword, his very real sword, the streetlight's amber beam reflecting in its polished steel blade. Or was that . . . his eyes?

"Are you ready?" the policeman asked, watching his weapon thoughtfully as he lowered his arm in a forceful trial swing. Rain was spilling down it onto the ground, and for a moment Kenji thought he may have seen a slight pinkish tint in it. He gulped and forced his eyes back to the man.

"Aren't those illegal?"

"Special permission."

"Do yourself a favor old man, and put it away. You're out of your league."

His opponent responded with a grin of heinous amusement. "I think you're bluffing."

"Find out if you aren't scared."

The swordsman shrugged, and a short clink rang in Kenji's ears as he snapped his sword firmly into an attack position: pointing straight forward and balanced by his right hand. And then he began to move.

Kenji stood still as the man began racing toward him . . . much more quickly than he had anticipated. Was he human? He shouldn't have been capable of that at his age. He began groping for his own weapon desperately, ignoring the instinct telling him he wasn't remotely close to retrieving it in time. If he didn't do something soon this maniac might kill him, but what else could he do, run? The swordsman was feet away, and preparing to thrust his sword mercilessly forward. Yes, run.

The futility of his effort hit Kenji before he had taken his first retreating step. In a matter of seconds he found himself pinned against a wall, his sword lying fractured at his side, staring down a cigarette into the arrogant, golden-eyed glare of triumph.

What had just happened?

"A bokken?" the victor mocked as a strand of red hair slipped down his captive's damp forehead, "You know, you could have been spared this embarrassment had you just cooperated in the first place."

"That's it?" the redhead gasped on the limited air the swordsman's grasp around his neck was allowing him. He hadn't even nicked him, much less committed murder. And his sword was back in its sheath. When had he . . ?

"No, that is _not_ it. I'm not going to kill you while I still have use for you. But continue refusing to cooperate and I will have no choice but to annihilate you."

Kenji gulped. Annihilate?

"Ready to reconsider my offer _now?_"

Kenji glared malevolently at the officer, mentally cursing his calm and confident smile before caving.

"What's in it for me?"

The officer backed up and thoughtfully tapped one finger against his cigarette.

"Well, I'll get you out of here, for one thing. The person I need you to find is in Kyoto, and that's where you're headed anyway."

Kenji's jaw dropped. "How did you—"

"And you'll be rewarded financially, of course, for your services. All you have to do is find out where one little person is hiding for me. Deal?"

Kenji eyed the hand now extended toward him and the gloating, depraved smile with reluctance. This man definitely wasn't the picture of trustworthiness . . . but if he refused he would either die or be forced to go back to the dojo . . .

"Deal."

"Perfect."

After all, it got him to Kyoto, right?

"Do I at least get your name?"

"Fujita. That's the only name you need for now, Himura."

"Hey—"

"Meet me at the train station at dawn tomorrow."

"And what am I supposed to do until then?"

Fujita glanced at him incredulously and smirked. "Go home, of course."

"Go _home_? I ran _away_ from home to meet you! I can't just go back, what if they've noticed—"

"My letter only mentioned a meeting, Himura. I didn't tell you to pack to leave."

"I'm not going back."

"Oh yes you are."

"No I'm _not!_"

"Yes you—what are you, five? Shut up and get home!"

Fujita began to stroll casually away, Kenji scowled.

"They'll never let me out tomorrow if they catch me—and my mother _will_—so unless you want to break me out somehow . . ."

Fujita sighed and lit another cigarette before turning to clamp a hand around Kenji's arm and drag him along.

"Fine, come on."

"Where will I stay?"

"The station."

"There are places to sleep there?"

"Criminals have to sleep too, Himura."

"Wha—a _cell?_"

"A cell. That way I know you won't break our deal."

"Fu_jita!_" Kenji protested, "stop it! There are other places I can stay, why there? Let me go!" Fujita was silent, and Kenji glowered. "I hate you."

"Deal with it."

* * *

Kenshin slid the door to his son's room open slowly. To be honest, he would have rather been away from the dojo right now, but Kaoru was informing the police and had insisted that he remain here in case their son returned (though neither was naive enough to truly hope), so he was left to wander alone, torturing himself over the possibility that Kenji's disappearance was resultant of their earlier 'less than friendly' conversation. Kenji had been gloomy and silent at dinner and then gone straight back to his room, his now disturbingly clean and empty room.

His futon was folded neatly in the corner, probably for the first time since Kaoru had stopped cleaning it up for him. Kenshin walked apprehensively to it and kneeled, lifting the pile of bedding in his shaky arms. Maybe if he hadn't demanded that Kenji stay . . .

He hugged the futon closer and sighed brokenly. What would they do? The police wouldn't be any help, Kenji would never be careless enough to allow them to catch him. Kaoru probably wouldn't be able to track him down either, _Kenshin_ would have even struggled with keeping up with that boy.

Where was he now? What was their son facing on his own, completely alone, without their knowledge or support . . . this was _hard_. They'd never been away from Kenji since he was born, he hadn't worried this much in _years_ . . .

"Kenji, I'm sorry," he cried quietly. "Where are you?"

* * *

Preview of Chapter 4: Kyoto?

Fujita took a long drag on yet another cigarette in a desperate attempt to repress the strain this connection was already putting on him. He couldn't do anything about it; Himura couldn't help him if he was dead before they reached Kyoto. Still, this had been one of the longest train rides of his life. Why couldn't the boy be more like his father?

Wait, his _father?_


	4. Kyoto?

Boo, reviewers. You gave me hardly any feedback! Thanks to those who did, but to the rest of you, tell me if you want more this time!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Four: Kyoto?**

Kenji knew it was a prison. He wasn't stupid, he knew it wasn't supposed to be comfortable or anything, but honestly, was Fujita serious? He was doing the man a favor, and _those_ were the accommodations he was rewarded with? He would have preferred returning to the dojo, in the end. The night that belonged in the imagination of the devil was finally over, but now he stood in the middle of a sweaty mass of train passengers with bloodshot eyes and a stiff back, still picking at the grime last night's excuse for a bed had bequeathed him. Fujita would pay for this.

"He's late," Kenji complained lamely, but the young officer beside him just shrugged and made a gentle reminder that Fujita-san knew what he was doing.

Kenji sneered contemptuously and rolled his eyes. That was the worst of it. Fujita-_san?_ Please. If he heard the respectful honorific attached to the man's name one more time he was going to skewer the offending person with a rusty katana. All of the officers he'd met at the station last night had spoken of Fujita so _highly_—san san san, that's all he'd heard the whole time. There was some degree of fear in their admiration, true, but the point was that despite that they actually _respected_ him, even enough to blatantly lie to Kenji's questioning mother on his orders. They'd falsely promised Kaoru to help find her missing son just because Fujita-_san_ told them to—definitely not legal—while knowing that Kenji was playing shogi in the adjacent room with a recently arrested embezzler. Fujita wasn't even from Tokyo, he was just here on special business. They didn't owe him any allegiance, and Kenji was really struggling to see what they thought was so great about the man, he seemed overbearing and irresponsible so far—

"He'd better hurry, before someone that's looking for me shows up." His eyes began scanning the crowd for a crabby, towering police officer, but then—

_What?_

The cop next to him glanced curiously at Kenji as he swore under his breath and turned quickly around, instinctively ducking his head.

"No no _no!_ What is _he_ doing here this early?" Kenji moaned. "Of all the people—"

"Who?"

Kenji glanced over his shoulder and paled as he realized the boy had spotted him. Curse this conspicuous red hair . . .

"Shinya."

"Well that's better than your parents, isn't it?"

"Barely."

"Kenji? It _is_ you!" Myojin Shinya cried excitedly as he got closer. "What are you doing here?" Kenji responded with an exhausted glare.

_As if you don't know . . ._

Reluctantly he turned fully around to face the coming accusation. Of everyone that could have found him, it _would_ be the only child of his parents' closest friends, the two people who would have been the first to hear about it. That was the way his luck ran when defying his parents was involved.

But if Shinya knew, then why was he walking so casually toward him and smiling, like it was any other day?

"Why the train station, Kenji? Couldn't find anywhere else cooler to hang out?"

Wait. They _hadn't_ told him?

"Uh," he stammered hopefully, "I'm waiting for someone?"

Shinya raised a disbelieving eyebrow and smirked. "Really? I thought it might be because you're leaving today."

The officer gave Kenji another questioning look, but the redhead could only stare forward with dread.

_It's not—it's just—Shinya won't—all right, just DON'T panic._

"What are you talking about, Shinya?" he asked carefully, watching the boy nervously for any clue that might give away whether he was joking or not.

"Well _I'd_ be leaving town if I'd been so shamefully beaten by Otousan," Shinya responded with a mocking smile, and Kenji exhaled his breath in a shaky laugh.

"It's because he cheated."

"Right."

"It's true!"

"Sure, sure, anyway, your mother is looking for you. She probably wants help with breakfast, and frankly, the rest of us wouldn't mind if someone other than her had some input in our next meal."

Kenji smiled as he allowed himself to relax. So they had decided to spare him the details and panic, that did make sense, considering the fact that Shinya was just a child. Sometimes Kenji forgot, the boy was so ridiculously talented for his age.

He pushed Shinya unseriously. "You know Shinya, you have your own house. You could always eat there if Okaasan's abilities don't meet your expectations."

"It's more fun at the dojo with you."

Well, Kenji couldn't exactly deny that. Sometimes he wondered if Yahiko and Tsubame even missed their son during his long and unpredictable bouts at the dojo. He probably spent more time there than his own home, but it gave him infinitely more opportunities to practice with Kenji—until now, anyway.

"Well isn't that sweet," jabbed a deep sarcastic voice, and Kenji knew his escort had arrived.

Fujita tossed Kenji his bag (he knew he'd forgotten something) and handed him his ticket, ignoring Shinya's blank stare.

"Lose the brat Himura, we need to go."

Shinya's eyes flew to Kenji. "Kenji? What's he—"

The train whistled, and Kenji looked desperately at it and then back to Shinya. If the kid found out where it was going, it was over.

"Hey Shinya, how about you go home now, all right?"

"Don't talk to me like a kid, Kenji . . . you're not really going anywhere, are you? Your mother said you were coming home—"

"I said lose him, Himura."

Shinya glared at Fujita and was about to kick his shin when Kenji kneeled in front of him, taking him by the shoulders.

"Look Shinya, I _am_ coming home, I just have to leave town to take care of a few things—"

"You're _actually_ _LEAVING?_"

"Listen, you _can't_ tell my parents you saw me."

"Kenji!"

"I'm asking you as a friend, Shinya. I know I can trust you—"

Fujita promptly ended the conversation by losing patience and dragging Kenji away by the sleeve while the other officer restrained Shinya.

"I'm coming back, all right?" Kenji said before he was out of earshot. Shinya just folded his arms and looked aside, scowling.

"Liar."

* * *

The next thing Kenji registered hearing was the darkly muttered command "wake up." For a moment he considered doing so, the thought of being asleep and therefore helpless in front of Fujita _did_ make him somewhat nervous, but this time exhaustion won. He kept his eyes shut and sank further into the stiff train seat, mumbling.

"Leave me alone, I'm tired."

A cigarette butt struck his face and Kenji opened one vexed eye to glare at the man across from him as he brushed the ash off of his cheek. He _hated_ cops.

"We're almost there. Don't you want to know what your job is?"

"Not particularly."

Another freshly lit projectile flew from Fujita's hand; Kenji glowered and ducked out of the way before brushing it to the floor and extinguishing it with his toe.

"I haven't slept since meeting you, you know. The station's accommodations weren't exactly luxurious, and neither is this train."

"Your fault," Fujita retorted simply. "You should have planned better. Are you going to stay awake now?"

Kenji glanced out the window and sighed in an exaggerated expression of self-pity. "Fine."

Fujita took a long drag on yet another cigarette in a desperate attempt to repress the strain this connection was already putting on him. He couldn't do anything about it; Himura couldn't help him if he was dead before they reached Kyoto. Still, this had been one of the longest train rides of his life. Why couldn't the boy be more like his father?

Wait, his _father?_

"Well?" rolled off Kenji's insolent tongue, and his eyes swung questioningly to the silent officer.

"Her name is Asuka."

"Her?" Kenji asked with a smirk. "Did your girlfriend run off or something?"

The officer's slitted eyes jumped to Kenji's and narrowed. "Boy, I sincerely suggest that you shut your mouth before my sword does the talking for both of us." Honestly, the audacity of the ignorant and brassy fool—his girlfriend—had he no respect for . . . oh, forget it.

Kenji's eyebrows raised, he sat a little straighter and kept a cautious eye on Fujita while feigning interest in an imaginary splinter in his finger. Who knew someone like him would be so touchy . . .

"She's a former resident of Hokkaido, she disappeared recently but has been spotted in Kyoto and it's my job to retrieve her. As an officer of the law, however, I'm particularly conspicuous, and tracking her down has proven significantly difficult—"

"That's it? You want me to find a runaway? I thought it'd be something dangerous . . ."

"If this girl was just an average runaway I wouldn't be on the case," Fujita retorted smugly. "And you'll be in more danger than you can imagine if you don't pull this off for me," he goaded, drawing an unappreciative glare.

"And how am I supposed to find her?"

"Finding her isn't your personal concern. You're to accompany the man already on the job and assist him when required, that's it."

"That's it?"

"I just said—"

"Get another officer to do it! I didn't come here to be some guy's assistant!"

Fujita sighed heavily. "Look Himura, _you're_ here because our other officers are presently occupied with other assignments, and because I can't reasonably send one man on such a dangerous job. You're here because of your skills."

His attention was immediately piqued. Dangerous . . . his _skills?_

"Will I get to fight?"

"Don't get your hopes up. You're just insurance, your partner can take care of himself unless the situation is extreme."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"Just do your job and don't ask superfluous questions."

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"No."

Kenji folded his arms and sank into his seat with a pout. The enigmas surrounding this man were really starting to get irritating—especially his seemingly unending fountain of information about him. But the redhead shrugged carelessly. No matter. If things didn't go well he'd just ditch the job and start looking for Battousai on his own.

"And don't you dare consider breaking our deal, boy," Fujita added seemingly offhand with a casual smile, "you'll be watched closely."

Insert expletive here.

Twenty minutes later they were in Kyoto, _in Kyoto_, and all Kenji could do was sigh. So much for his grand, adventurous escape. The short time since he had run away had been the most tedious period of his life; Fujita had even succeeded in destroying the excitement his arrival in the city _should_ have evoked. That blasé attitude had the odd ability of severely draining one's enthusiasm. But at least he was here, and one step closer to finding the man he was determined to make his master, and it was ironically thanks to that sour and cryptic police officer.

He glanced at said officer, who was now conversing quietly but animatedly with a cop that had met them upon their arrival. Fujita suddenly shot Kenji an irritated look, then sighed.

"I have to go," he muttered. "This man will take you to the station, but as soon as I'm back you're getting to work." Well, at least he was about to get a break from the guy, brief as it was.

Hang on . . . Fujita was _gone?_

_Perfect._

Fujita strode off angrily and Kenji was left in the care of a short, aging, overall weak-looking officer who was bidding him to follow. He smirked.

"Hang on . . . I think I left something on the train."

With the man's permission he jumped back into the car and feigned a search for an imaginary piece of luggage, until the officer's attention was caught by a woman asking for directions. Then, with a cocky chuckle, he stepped right out the other side of the car—and started running.

_Sucker_.

He wasn't about to stick around if he didn't have to—even if this Asuka person somehow ended up being easy to find. More was at stake than just his search for Battousai, because at this point he was convinced that working with Fujita had been the cause of the steady deterioration of more than one man's sanity.

Enter case one.

"Whoa kid, cool it, would ya?"

At first Kenji thought the slovenly cop ambling next to the train was talking to him, and he slowed to a purposeful walk to appear less suspicious. But the blonde walked right past him, and as Kenji glanced over his shoulder he saw the man grab the collar of a young boy who had been attempting to hide behind a miso stand. He released a relieved sigh.

"Thought you'd get away, huh?" the cop snickered, "I saw ya, stowaway." Kenji almost turned back around disinterestedly, until he caught a glimpse of the boy darting out of the man's grasp and running straight for him. Before he knew what was happening the kid was clutching his gi from behind, peeking under his arm at the smiling officer. Great, he'd chosen him as a shield.

"Hey kid, come back here!"

Kenji lifted his arm to get a look at the boy and warn him that he wasn't going to help, only to reel backwards in furious confusion as he laid eyes on the guiltily smiling face. That little _idiot!_

"_Shinya!_"

"Hey Kenji," Shinya managed, "have a nice trip?"

"Myojin Shinya, I'm going to strangle you—"

But the cop had walked lazily to them before Kenji could fulfill his violent impulse, leaning forward to observe the two as his toothpick twitched idly back and forth.

"Come on," he said, pulling Shinya from behind Kenji by his gi, "you've gotta come with me." Kenji pulled back, and the officer's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Well you look familiar. Running away too?" Kenji paled. He had to get Shinya out of here before they caused any more of a scene and drew any unwanted attention . . . like that of Fujita. So he surrendered to instinct and made an arguably unwise decision, and punched the man in the jaw.

The officer swore and shook his head, but seemed otherwise unruffled. "An accomplice, huh?" he asked, and before Kenji could reply the man had landed a blow in his gut. Kenji gasped and frowned at his attacker, reaching reflexively for his bokken.

"You think that toy's going to help ya against me? Just try it." And he pulled out . . . well Kenji didn't really know what it was, but it _definitely_ wasn't a standard officer's saber—what was it with these crazy law-breaking psychopaths the city of Kyoto called law enforcers?

"You don't know who you're dealing with," Kenji warned.

The officer's lips twisted in a cocksure smile. "Wanna bet?"

"Fine, take this!"

And suddenly Kenji realized that this was his second fight with an officer of the law this week.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

All three froze and glanced nervously at Fujita, whose enraged bellow had attracted the attention of half of the people on the street. Kenji rolled his eyes, and was surprised when the cop he had been on the verge of killing (or was it the other way around?) reacted similarly."What do you think you're doing, Chou?"

"Come on boss, I was just trying to make my job interesting. You're no fun at all."

"You call 'fun' attacking civilians?"

Sawagejou Chou shrugged. "He started it."

Fujita just pushed the two apart and with an angry glance ordered Chou to sheathe his sword.

"I should have left you on Hokkaido."

"Aw, you don't mean that boss."

Meanwhile Kenji didn't put his bokken away, and he didn't remove his sharp glare from the blonde.

"Lunatic."

"Watch it punk, I was beatin' you."

"Yeah right—you really _are_ out of your mind."

"At least I was fighting with a real sword!"

"Yeah, well _I _don't look like a freak from a circus with broom-hair!"

"Oh sure, _red_ doesn't make a statement at all."

Fujita's cigarette snapped in half and he began to chuckle bleakly.

"Himura, Chou , I'd like both of you to meet your new partner."

First silence, then two simultaneous yells which echoed through the larger part of Kyoto for longer than the laws of nature should have allowed.

"_PART_NER?"

* * *

In Tokyo, one Himura Kaoru was holding her throbbing head in both hands as Yahiko and Tsubame informed her that Shinya had gone missing too.

"Do you think he's with Kenji?"

"Where else?"

"I didn't think Kenji would be irresponsible and _stupid_ enough to drag Shinya down with him—"

"Kaoru," Yahiko interrupted, shaking his head with a small smile, "Kenji probably had no choice in the matter. You know Shinya, he probably tagged along without being invited."

"At least they're together."

"And at least we don't have to worry about them finding the real Battousai and getting themselves hurt."

"True," Kenshin answered grimly, "but they could find someone else. Remember Hiruma Gohei?"

To her husband's surprise, Kaoru snorted. "Please, the boys could take a pushover like that. But he won't be impersonating you anymore, even if he is still around. It isn't cool."

Kenshin tilted his head to one side inquisitively. "Cool?"

"Well face it, you're old."

"Kaoru!"

* * *

Preview of next chapter: **What Happens to Redheads in Kyoto**

"WHOA!"

Kenji had known something weird was going on when he'd run after a thief onto a street that was still abandoned this late in the morning, but he'd never expected _that._ And the katana-wielding figure that had just jumped off a roof and nearly sliced his head off was _definitely_ not the little boy they'd been chasing.

"Kenji," Shinya gasped, still sitting where Kenji had thrown him as he'd dodged out of the way, "I think she just tried to _kill_ us!"

But Kenji was too preoccupied frantically searching for a weapon to respond.


	5. What Happens to Redheads in Kyoto

Sorry this update took longer than usual, I've been working on a more detailed plot outline so I know for sure where I'm going with this. I'm so excited about the rest of it! Enjoy!

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Five: What Happens to Redheads in Kyoto**

Kenji felt like a guilty child again, pouting silently as he was scolded by his mother for playing with Yahiko's sword or getting a little too violent while sparring with one of her students . . . only the criticism for those offenses had been slightly less severe than now. He _had_ publicly attacked a police officer after all, though he was probably getting off easy with nothing more than the tragically extensive lecture he and Chou had just endured. Still, sitting under Fujita's patronizing glare was humiliating, and to his dismay the blonde next to him had responded to the acrid criticism with nothing more than a bored yawn. Did he feel no shame . . . or was he just used to this by now? And what was Fujita thinking—making them partners? Did he _want_ one of them to be returned to the station in a coffin?

"That's great boss," Chou drawled while staring at the ceiling, "can I go now?"

"The two of you are to begin your search _immediately_," Fujita continued, ignoring him. "I don't care if you're on or off duty, you are _always_ together and always searching. Is that clear?"

"Uh huh."

"Himura?"

Kenji folded his arms and sank further into his chair. "Whatever."

"_Now_ can I go?"

"Fine Chou, go. Go with him, Himura, and take the boy to the train station."

Kenji bolted out of his seat. "Shinya?" he exclaimed in a panicky voice.

"If that's his name."

"No Fujita, Shinya _has_ to stay here!"

"Why?" Fujita asked calmly as he squelched a cigarette in his overflowing tray. "I won't have children around distracting you or the other officers."

"No! Fujita, he—"

Kenji jumped backward as Fujita slapped his palm firmly down on the desk to silence him. "Honestly Himura, what _is _it with you and this ridiculously childish insistence to bicker? You work for me, you do what I say. The kid isn't staying."

Kenji's resultant glare would have instantly convinced nearly anyone else to give in; Fujita merely smiled and watched Kenji stand there, eyebrows knitted together in furious determination and fists clenched as if to appear more threatening. He tilted his head to the side as an idea struck him.

"Actually . . . I've changed my mind. He'll stay."

"Fujita, that isn't—" Kenji stopped as the words registered, then sputtered, "w-what?"

"I'll let you have your way this time. Keeping the boy around will be good for insurance, after all."

Kenji's internal victory shout fizzled as he realized what he should have known from the start: Fujita had an ulterior motive. "Insurance," he repeated doubtfully.

"Yes—I keep him around, and you promise to stick to our deal. Otherwise I ship him right back to Tokyo and your parents find out where you are. That's what you're afraid of, right?"

Kenji hung his head partly in shame but primarily to hide the traitorous rage overtaking his expression. "Right," he ground out.

"That means no more little plots to run off and find Hiko, like earlier at the train station."

A sharp rebuttal was on the edge of Kenji's tongue, but he resisted, glancing back up at Fujita in confusion. So the man didn't have all the answers after all. He thought he did, but he was either mad or at least sadly misinformed as he sat there in ignorant confidence.

"Who?" Kenji asked with an insolent smile.

Fujita rolled his eyes. "What do you mean, 'who?' _Hiko_, the one you're here to find. Don't play dumb," he spat, "I know what you're up to."

Kenji stepped backward and took a moment to ascertain the other man's mental stability. Upon realizing that Fujita's impatient stare wasn't going to get him anywhere, he settled for just telling him he was crazy.

"Um, I don't know where you get your information, but I have _no_ idea who you're talking about, and if you must know, I'm looking for Battousai."

Fujita choked on his cigarette and looked up at Kenji with an arched eyebrow, but Kenji just stared back defiantly. Kenji looking for Battousai? Right. It was too much, the officer couldn't retain his composure, and Chou's hyena-like cackle from the corner wasn't helping. Fujita started to laugh.

Kenji never thought he would be so terrified of an expression of amusement.

A secretary was knocking on the door and asking if everything was all right, and Kenji's face was redder than his hair as he embarrassedly demanded to know what was so funny. Chou wiped a tear from his eye as Fujita regained his usual self-control and smirked up at Kenji.

"Really funny Himura, just don't run off again."

But Kenji just stared blankly back. Fujita shook his head and almost told Kenji that the joke was getting old, but the horrific realization made him stop.

_No . . ._

"You were _serious_," he said carefully, drawing a dubious and confused glance from Chou.

"Of course I was!"

Fujita nearly pinched himself to see if he were dreaming.

_Himura Kenshin, you are a moron._

"Well fine then," he forced himself to continue, "it'll keep you from looking for _Battousai._" Kenji glared upon hearing the derogatory manner in which Fujita said it. He didn't like that tone; it reminded him of how his mother spoke when telling him Shinya came from a stork.

"Just tell me what to do when we find Asuka."

"Listen to Chou, it'll be easy, and absolutely _no_ running off by yourself. Got it?"

But Kenji was already stamping down the hallway, leaving Fujita's door swinging violently behind him.

Easy? Easy to find her in a city as large as Kyoto which could easily have a hundred people named 'Asuka?' He didn't know her age, her history, anything about what she looked like, and if Chou didn't either they were going to be on this assignment _forever_. He was really beginning to hate this job.

And Shinya, that little twirp who had unknowingly destroyed all of his plans just smiled like a clueless oaf when Kenji walked out of Fujita's office and innocently asked him where he wanted to go for dinner.

Kenji sighed. He shouldn't blame him, he hadn't done it on purpose, after all . . . it was just so much easier to condemn someone else for the way things were going . . .

"I don't care," Kenji muttered, "you pick."

"Going for dinner?" Chou asked with a maniacal grin as he strode out the door after them, and Kenji frowned half-heartedly.

"We're perfectly capable of feeding ourselves, thanks."

"Sorry, can't let ya do that; you remember Saitou's orders."

"Whose?"

"Fujita's of course, are you deaf or somethin'? Where are we goin'?"

Kenji dropped his head as Shinya answered, informing him that he wanted to go to the Shirobeko, hoping by willpower alone that he could convince the street to just swallow him whole.

"So, what did he tell you about her?"

Kenji glanced up in mild surprise at Chou's quiet question. He realized that Chou had slowed his pace and he'd unconsciously followed; Shinya was several yards ahead, looking voraciously for the restaurant.

"About who?"

"Asuka, of course."

Kenji exhaled quickly in disgust. "Nothing other than her name. I don't know how he expects us to find her, unless you . . ."

"Yeah, I know her."

"_Know_ her? Personally?"

"_Of_ her," Chou quickly corrected, "I know about her. She's about your age, maybe a little younger, and ran away half-a-year or so ago."

"Why didn't Fujita tell me that?"

Chou shrugged. "I guess he didn't figure ya needed to know."

"Then why am I even here!"

"Because Fujita's in charge, and he thinks you being here will help somehow, since she's probably not alone. The rest beats me."

_Why?_

Why did everyone around here insist on just blindly following Fujita's ridiculously ambiguous orders, and how did they expect to succeed?

_What's he putting in their drinks?_

Ten minutes later Kenji was directing a glazed stare out the window of the Shirobeko while Shinya drooled over his meal. The kid _would_ pick the one place in Kyoto that was reminiscent of home. A reminder of Tokyo was the last thing he needed right now.

"Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Yes, Shinya. I'm not hungry."

"Am I staying?"

"You're staying," Kenji affirmed in a tone that was supposed to suggest excitement, but sounded more like severe indigestion.

The boy grinned and swallowed another healthy mouthful as Chou stumbled away after an attractive waitress. "This is fun, isn't it? You and me on our own, without any nagging parents or work to do . . ."

_You don't get it._

"Great," Kenji mumbled.

While Kenji wallowed in silent irritation he noticed that Shinya had stopped eating—there were no more ravenous chewing sounds, anyway. Instead he was just tapping his chopsticks together.

"What is it, Shinya?"

He heard Shinya set his bowl aside, sighing. "Well, Kenji, I was just wondering if . . . if this was another attempt to, you know, find Battousai."

Kenji drew out his consequent sigh for as long as he could.

Yeah, the kid knew. Kenji didn't regret that day he had let it slip anymore; Shinya had kept his word and kept the secret. He was good at keeping secrets . . . maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were sent home after all.

Then again, no one was _looking_ for that information. This case was different, and who knew what draconian torture methods Kaoru would unleash to get what she wanted out of Shinya. So he was stuck.

"Yeah."

"How are you going to find him?"

"I don't know."

"Well, even if you _do _find him and he's still alive, he might not even want to train you, you know."

"I know."

"But you're trying anyway?"

"Yes," Kenji replied, turning aside to face the window and waiting for Shinya's irritatingly logical warning that it wasn't worth it or possible.

"Hey Kenji?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I help?"

For the second time that day Kenji grinned. He should have known the kid would choose an adventure over reason, he was _Yahiko's_ kid, after all.

"You're risking a lot, you know, our parents are going to be furious if I let you get even more involved."

"Let's face it Kenji, we're both dead as soon as we set foot in Tokyo anyway. So can I?"

"Sure, Shinya. I just have to do a job for Fujita first."

Shinya shuddered. "He's kind of scary."

Kenji passed on commenting on that observation as Chou signaled to him from across the room, telling him it was time to leave.

"Fine," Kenji muttered, and he reached for his wallet to pay for he and Shinya's food, but felt something strange . . . nothing but the soft blue cloth of his gi.

"Ah!"

"What?"

"Someone _robbed_ me!"

Fantastic. Now he was stuck in an unfamiliar city with a hopeless job and a deranged policeman playing babysitter with no _money._ His hawkish eyes instantly began to comb the restaurant for anything suspicious, and that's when he saw it—just a glimpse of a sprinting boy tripping out the door.

"There!"

"When did he—"

"Forget it, let's go!"

It took him a few seconds to tear Shinya away from the food, and Chou glanced up from the other side of the building just in time to see the two charge through the still swinging door and down the street.

"Ah, Saitou's gonna kill me!" He was about to pursue them, until aforementioned waitress caught him by the collar and roughly demanded to know who was going to pay for their meal. Kaoru would have fainted had she heard the names Chou attached to her son as he scrounged up the appropriate amount.

Kenji wove through the crowds easily while dragging a flailing Shinya, smiling vengefully as he pictured the look on that petty thief's face when he caught up with him. He would be just around the corner, and Kenji grabbed a lamp post to help him retain his balance as he swung swiftly into the turn.

He skidded to a dead halt and didn't bother apologizing when Shinya crashed into him. He could have _sworn_ the thief had just turned here, but the entire street was empty . . . and eerily quiet.

There was something wrong here . . .

"Kenji . . ."

"Quiet Shinya, I think I hear something."

But there was only silence. Kenji took a few steps forward down the abandoned street and peeked into the first building; there was a fearful shuffle away from the door and whoever was hiding ignored Kenji's impatient demands for an explanation.

_Click._

"There!"

He'd spotted the boy thief, who'd just been unceremoniously tossed out of a building a few yards away and cringed as the shoji slid shut with a bang. Kenji was already running at him.

"Kenji!"

The redhead skidded to a halt and gave an almost girlish squeal, bending over to observe the smoking hole in his hakama. Someone was _shooting_ at him now?

"What's going on!" he insisted of no one (the thief had suddenly scrambled again) while Shinya reached instinctively for the shinai on his back, as if that would help him against a gun.

Kenji's eyes flitted back and forth with apprehension now, revenge forgotten, but his search was unrewarded. More silence . . . then the briefest shuffle from somewhere above them.

"WHOA!"

Kenji had known something weird was going on when he'd run after a thief onto a street that was still abandoned this late in the morning, but he'd never expected _that._ And the katana-wielding figure that had just jumped off a roof and nearly sliced his head off was _definitely_ not the little boy they'd been chasing.

"Kenji," Shinya gasped, still sitting where Kenji had thrown him as he'd dodged out of the way, "I think she just tried to _kill_ us!"

But Kenji was too preoccupied frantically searching for a decent weapon to respond.

She swung recklessly again and Kenji barely blocked the attack with a rusty frying pan he'd grabbed from a woman peering at them through a window.

"What's your problem?" he demanded angrily, shoving her off, "you nearly whacked my head off!"

"Next time I won't _miss!_" she cried, jerking her sword rapidly down toward him—but she only caught the end of his hair as he ducked swiftly to the side. The sword followed him; Kenji wasn't going to dodge this one.

"Kenji!"

"Don't interrupt, Shinya," Kenji muttered with a smile as he caught her wrist and snapped it backward, drawing a sharp cry from his attacker and causing her katana to clatter in the dust. His mistake was then assuming that rendering her weaponless would end the assault.

"Idiot!" was all he heard as her other fist caught his jaw and sent him reeling backwards. Her leg came next, and he would have acquired a painful and disgusting bruise if he hadn't managed to catch it and use the momentum from her kick to swing her around and send her skidding down the street.

It was as she pushed herself off the ground moaning that Kenji first really looked at her, he'd been too busy fending her off to do so before. She appeared normal enough—with the exception of the shorts and sleeveless gi where most girls her age would have been wearing a kimono. And the fact that she'd just nearly murdered him—that wasn't really normal either.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" the incensed Kenji demanded of the girl now sitting in shock in a puddle of mud, trying to wipe the brown liquid from her face but only succeeding in smearing it in the blood dripping from her fresh cuts. She stopped at his accusation, swinging smoldering eyes up to meet his.

"How _dare_ you!"

"ME? _You_ attacked _me_, not the other way around!"

"You deserved it! You should be dead!" she answered wrathfully.

"WHY?"

The girl pushed herself unsteadily to her feet in order to glower at him at his level.

"Because you're the most terrible and soulless human being I have _ever met!_ Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"NO!" Kenji screamed, grabbing a clump of red hair with both fists, "that's why I'm asking!"

She inhaled forcefully and glared, opening her mouth to retort, until her eyes caught sight of something behind Kenji and narrowed.

"Thought bringing backup would help, did you?"

And Kenji found himself staring down a pistol. He paused, exercising just enough self-control to stop himself from hurling an insult while turning his head just a fraction to see what she was talking about.

Strange . . . he didn't see anything.

"Hey!"

His eyes swung forward at the girl's pained and angry exclamation to see her being restrained by two darkly-clad, armed men. At the most he'd expected Chou, but who were _these_ guys . . . ninjas or something? He certainly hadn't asked for their help . . .

"Finally got you," one of them murmured, inspiring a scowl.

"Your partners distracted me," she muttered acidly, "don't get too proud of yourself."

Partners?

"Um, Kenji?" Shinya said nervously.

It was then that Kenji realized he was likewise being constrained, as another two men pinned his arms behind his back from behind—the men she'd seen but he hadn't, he assumed.

"Hang on," he protested, as they began dragging him away from her, "I'm not with her! Let me go, I was just robbed and she tried to _kill_ me! I didn't do anything!"

His complaints were choked off as he was dropped roughly at the feet of someone whose dark, livid aura was so strong as to be almost palpable. He couldn't explain the stark fear of the stranger that was suddenly filling his body, especially since the feet hovering over his nose looked small and unthreatening in their simple geta. Then he glanced upward, and began to sputter in astonished terror.

The woman with folded arms, knitted eyebrows, and that soul-jarring grimace yanked him to his knees by his hair and attempted to melt his face clean off with her caustic eyes.

"Yes, Kenji-kun?" she hissed.

"Uh . . . M-M-Misao—"

* * *

Preview of Chapter 6: **Deals with Wolves**

"I suppose you couldn't remember," she abruptly mumbled, her lips twisting into a cruel smile (though he seriously doubted that she was in any way amused), "I'm sure you've had far too may victims since then to remember her."

"Vic . . . tims?"

"That's right, I know your secret," she paused to stare hatefully up at him, "Hitokiri Battousai."

Kenji sighed slowly in disgust.

_Honestly?_


	6. Deals with Wolves

No, Misao isn't evil. You'll get it in this chapter. And **Scarred Sword Heart**, I know you want Kenji to get a katana, I think you've mentioned it in every review, but just have some patience for a little longer. And thanks for being a consistent reviewer, by the way.

More reviews please!

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Six: Deals with Wolves**

"SAITOU!"

With an aggravated grimace the officer snatched the newspaper that had just been torn from his grasp and continued reading while holding the snarling woman back with his free arm. "I'm right here, itachi-musume," he muttered, "there's no need to wake up the whole city.""You . . . you filthy lying—you said you were bringing in a _specialist_ to find the girl, not _Kenji-kun!_" she blurted. "There's no way Kaoru and Himura are all right with this, which means you practically _kidnapped _him—"

"He made the choice to come, Makimachi. Whether or not his parents approve isn't my concern, he's old enough to make his own decisions."

"You said it would be a specialist!" she whined desperately.

"And there's no one else that could find her as easily as the boy. He looks just like his father—"

"Though less effeminate," Chou threw in from the corner.

"No one asked you!"

"Face it," Saitou continued, his eyes still fixed on the paper, "it was a fool proof plan. She was sure to approach him eventually, a redheaded swordsman in Kyoto, Battousai or not, is better than any other lead she could have found."

Misao slapped both palms down on the table separating her from the officer and leaned over it toward Saitou, still seething.

"And what if he figures it out while he's here, Saitou? What if he finds out about the Oniwabanshu, or worse, about his _father_—"

"It's not my fault his parents decided to hide everything about Himura's past from him, I assumed he knew."

"Well you shouldn't assume! And you told him he could stay here and do whatever he wants after he found her!"

"Honestly itachi-musume," he said with a hint of amusement, finally looking at her, "I thought after all these years _you _would have figured out that what I say and what I mean aren't always _exactly_ the same."

"You . . . you were going to send him home?"

"Of course I was."

Misao sighed and sunk into the chair across from him. "Still Saitou, if he finds out I'm going to hold you personally responsible and you _will_ die, or my name isn't Makimachi Misao."

A short chuckle met her threat. "Makimachi . . . even after all these years you haven't managed to change it to Shinomori, eh?"

"Sai_TOU_!"

Upstairs a bored Kenji was pacing the hallways and wondering with only semi-serious interest how his mother's best friend knew his present employer well enough to scream that violently at him. More importantly, though, how was he going to get out of this now?

Misao knew he wasn't supposed to be here, _that_ was clear enough given her reaction at his appearance. She'd try to send him back, Fujita or Saitou or whatever his name was would protest, and they'd both argue until they were red in the face (if that hadn't occurred already) or until Misao pretended to give in and then kidnapped Kenji in the middle of the night and shipped him home. So much for finding Battousai, this plan was turning more and more into a mere struggle to maintain his sanity.

Unless he left. That was an option now . . . the only people who could stop him were at each other's throats downstairs. It would be easy—slip out the window, pick up Shinya (_he'd_ been allowed to go back to their inn), forget Fujita, Misao, and _definitely_ Asuka (he'd show Fujita what happened when he bossed him around), and then get out of here, or out of this part of town, anyway, he still had to stick around to find Battousai.

He slid the fusama open almost silently (years of practice) and headed for the window at the end of the hallway. It was unlocked. Misao was either far too trustworthy or seriously underestimated Kenji's intellectual capacity.

"Ow!"

His leg stopped halfway through the window and his head turned back nervously at the noise. But that hadn't been Misao, Fujita, or anyone else whose voice he recognized, and it had come from the room right across from the one he'd been in. It sounded as though someone was struggling, and suddenly he found his curiosity about what the Aoiya was hiding much stronger than his desire to escape.

He threw the door open; something hit his face before his vision could even adjust to the dim room.

"Ack!"

"You . . ." was whispered malevolently by a fierce feminine voice, and as Kenji wiped the spit from his eye he was chagrined to realize that he'd just come face to face with _her_ . . . again. Fortunately she was conveniently handcuffed to a chair.

Her eyes were glowing eerily as she sneered disgustedly at his appearance. Kenji's first impulse was to scream so loudly it deafened them both and then tackle her to the ground to beat her for what she'd done, and her look suggested that she felt the same way (though Kenji still had no idea _what_ he'd done). Kenji didn't have physical chains to stop him like she did, but had he attempted it their nearby captors would have heard all. So instead both were reduced to attacking one another with brutally acrimonious but nonetheless harmless whispers.

"Here to finish me off too?" she hissed.

"Hey, _you're_ the assassin here, not me," Kenji spat.

She looked surprised. "How . . . how _dare_ you suggest that _I'm_ the guilty one here—"

"You ARE! You tried to kill me—or don't you remember—"

"Stop pretending you don't know why!" she shrieked in distress. Kenji stiffened and turned his ear toward the door, but Misao was screaming again; they were safe. The girl dropped her head while beginning to chuckle with self-degradation; apparently she too was surprised by her outburst.

"But I _don't_ know," was Kenji's quiet protest, and the mad laughter ceased. Kenji quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously . . ."

"I suppose you couldn't remember," she abruptly mumbled, her lips twisting into a cruel smile (though he seriously doubted that she was in any way amused), "I'm sure you've had far too may victims since then to remember her."

"Vic . . . tims?"

"That's right, I know your secret," she paused to stare hatefully up at him, "Hitokiri Battousai."

Kenji sighed slowly in disgust.

_Honestly?_

Was there no one in this city that was just _normal_, that didn't have secrets or vendettas or manipulative plots to use or kill him or deranged beliefs that he was Battousai? They were all completely out of their minds. No wonder his parents had never brought him here, there was probably something in the water. And for the first time since arriving he actually thought it might be a good idea to just go home. Maybe he was the maddest of them all.

She pulled against the handcuffs furiously as he began to laugh. "It's not funny!"

"I was born eleven years after the revolution!" he forced out after gasping for breath, "and you think I'm _Battousai!_"

She watched blankly as with his laughter he proceeded to make a complete moron of himself, though that wasn't what her attention was drawn to . . . instead she found herself gazing curiously at his left cheek. This was the first time she'd really bothered _looking_ at him; before she'd just glanced and attacked. But he was right . . . he _was_ young . . .

" . . . you're not him."

"Of course not!"

"Well, are you at least a relative or something? You look like him—"

"You really _are_ crazy! I'm not him and I don't know him, so will you just leave me alone now?"

"You—you _imbecile_, you still got me arrested, 'or don't you remember?'," she quoted mockingly.

"Got you a—you _attacked_ me! And besides, they caught me too, idiot!"

"You're not handcuffed to a chair!"

"No, I just nearly died, that's all."

She turned her head sharply away with a pout, and Kenji decided her silence was the best he could really hope for; expecting some sign of remorse would be naive. He had settled for abandoning her there and returning to the window when she abruptly spoke again.

"Wait, what _are_ you doing here? You didn't do anything wrong . . ."

"It's just Misao . . ." he muttered as he exited.

"That crazy woman? Shouldn't the cops be deciding what happens to you?"

He nearly tripped on himself and glanced back in alarmed surprise. She was right . . . why _was_ he here? Obviously Misao wanted him off the job, but both Chou and Fujita were right downstairs and they could have easily arranged for his escape if she refused to cooperate.

"Yeah . . ."

He stiffened. Weren't he and Chou supposed to be on the job at all times? But Fujita had allowed him to be dragged to the Aoiya and shoved upstairs, had even ordered him to stay put, as though he wasn't needed anymore . . .

"Why is your face green?" she suddenly asked.

"I don't feel very well."

An appalling possibility had just hit Kenji, and he was suddenly very glad that he'd never actually bothered to eat dinner as he fought off the wave of nausea induced by her presence.

"What's your name?" he choked out hesitantly.

She didn't seem to see the point of the question, but answered anyway. She was in Fujita's custody, after all, there was no point in hiding anything.

"Asuka."

Kenji's forehead cracked against the wall.

Fujita wouldn't be arguing that he needed to stay after all. It was over . . . it was over before it had even begun and he'd probably be on a train for Tokyo by morning. He could still run . . . but with both Misao _and_ Fujita looking for him . . .

What was worse was the fact that Fujita had been right after all, it had been easy . . . _too_ easy. So much for putting the officer in his place and being defiant—he'd done exactly what the man wanted without even trying. And it looked like he wasn't going to be free to look for Battousai after all—that stupid lying piece—

"Figuring it out?" the girl claiming to be Asuka asked snidely from her chair after Kenji's stream of expletives had subsided.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"Duh, he _used_ you. He knew you'd gain my attention—that's the only reason he hired you. He manipulated you just as much as he manipulated me: the one he's been trying to catch all this time."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't kid yourself, it's obvious that you're working for Fujita."

Kenji slid to the floor and leaned his head back against the wall, impulsively wishing he had one of Fujita's cigarettes (they seemed to do wonders for the man). So that's what it came down to: the twisted, conniving jerk had been right all along. It was hard to be wrong when you had rigged the situation, though, and Fujita had planned out every detail. He'd known this would happen, that she'd find him before he even started looking. He probably knew she was looking for Battousai, too, that's the only reason he'd hired Kenji—to take advantage of the uncanny resemblance to the legendary manslayer he apparently had. It had all been part of his little plot, and all that stuff in the letter about 'putting his superior skills to good use' was just a clever front to get to Kenji's head and convince him to come. This was _definitely_ the last time he made a shady deal with a cop.

But then again . . .

"You must have lots of information on Battousai, then."

"Of course I do, I know what I'm doing." Then she let her defensive arrogance slip and grinned in understanding. "But I'm not telling _you_."

Kenji instantly bristled. "Look, I need that information—"

"You're looking for him too?" She actually looked interested, though in his haste Kenji failed to notice.

"Yes."

"And why should I tell you anything?"

"Well, I can, I can—"

"You can _what?_ Get me into even more trouble than you already have?"

"No! I'll . . ." he sighed in submission. "I can get you out of here."

Asuka burst into mocking laughter at that, scornful tears she wasn't in a position to wipe away pouring down her cheeks.

"Oh, Fujita's little henchman is going to release the prisoner for information—how horribly ridiculous!"

Kenji felt his face reddening and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "Well, why not?" he demanded.

She blinked rapidly to stop crying and smiled at him, but the expression faded when he failed to smile back.

"You can't be serious."

"I've got no loyalties to Fujita; I've been trying to get away from him since I got here." His next thought caused them both to grin. "And it might be fun to mess with his supposedly flawless plans a little."

Kenji shifted nervously under the probing gaze she responded with. At least she seemed to be considering it . . .

"And this isn't a trap? You won't turn me back over to Fujita?"

He opened his mouth to answer sardonically, but cut himself off—that wouldn't help him gain her trust.

"Look," she began as he hesitated, "I promise you now that if you even _think_ about betraying me to that man I _will kill you_."

Her eyes seemed to emit their own sinister light as she spoke, or growled. Part of her upper lip even curled back in an aggressive sneer, and though it was hardly appropriate Kenji could only think of one thing as she stared him vehemently down. He'd only seen a glare that intense once before—she reminded him of a wolf. Then again, maybe that was just because he was used to associating the women in his life with animals—Okaasan, Misao, and Megumi-san, anyway. He still had no idea where those nicknames had come from, though the geniuses behind them must have really enjoyed irking the three women.

"All right already, I'm not going to turn you over to Fujita. I let you go, you tell me what you know, and that's the end of it. Is that good enough, ookami-musume?"

Her mouth tumbled open in revulsion. "Did you just call me—"

"Ready to go or not?"

She attempted to leap angrily toward him, though she soon realized her lack of choices in the situation as the handcuffs once again restricted her.

"Fine."

Kenji smiled. Well then, with the exception of Asuka's unnecessary sass this was going better than expected—he was about to get free information on Battousai. The fact that she wanted the manslayer dead was a bit of a downside, but he'd just have to find him first. And if things didn't turn out as he wanted them to, he could always go back to Fujita and get his money.

"You have the _key?_" she exclaimed as he pulled it out of his sleeve, "how?"

Kenji shrugged. "I thought they were going to lock me up in here; I saw it downstairs on the way in and grabbed it just in case."

He quickly released one of her hands but pulled her backwards as she headed for the door, locking both behind her back once again.

"What are you doing?" she demanded indignantly.

"I don't trust you either, ookami-musume."

"So you _did_ call me—"

"Just come on."

* * *

Preview of Chapter 7: **At the Tavern**

Kenji knew he'd been spending too much time with Shinya when he just stuck his tongue out at her.

Her next exclamation wasn't entirely intelligible, but her feelings were perfectly clear as she leapt from her chair, gouged her fingernails into his arms and wrenched him off the table, ramming him into the floor. Kenji spit in disgust as water dripped from her hair onto his face; she squealed in revulsion and slapped him.

"Did . . . did you just _slap_ me?"


	7. At the Tavern

Short chapter, I know. I'll make up for it in the next one. And to everyone that's reviewed, thanks a lot for your feedback and insights. Enjoy!

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Seven: At the Tavern**

"Um, s-sir?"

Both Misao and Saitou glared up at the stuttering young officer, who gulped and whined fearfully before snapping into a seizure-like salute.

"What?" Saitou asked with clearly feigned patience.

The officer crossed his fingers and looked heavenward. "S-sir, it's just that—both the p-prisoner and Himura-san are . . . g-gone, sir—"

"WHAT?" Saitou barked as Misao sprang from her chair and seized the front of the other man's uniform.

"Where are they?"

"We . . . w-we don't know?"

"CHOU!"

"Sir?" the blonde asked lazily, rolling his head around to observe Fujita.

"Find him now!"

His eyebrows dropped dramatically. "Why do—"

"You're his partner! Just hurry!"

"I don't wanna—" Chou muttered as he exited, barely dodging Saitou's fist and kicking Misao's empty chair on his way out. "She's probably already dragged him into hiding . . ."

In fact, Kenji was sitting on a creaky table in the nearest tavern, cringing and cursing as Asuka attempted to scrub away the blood that had burst from his nose when he'd landed on his face after toppling from the second story window of the Aoiya.

That jerk Asuka had wormed her way out of the handcuffs, caused his painful fall from the window by pushing him ("an accident!" she'd claimed with a grin), and probably bruised a rib or two when she'd jumped without bothering to avoid his twitching body already sprawled on the ground below.

Things were not going well.

"Grow _up_," she muttered as he pulled away, "you look ridiculous."

With an exaggerated sigh Kenji braced himself and held still. Unfortunately, even after all she'd already done, he really had no choice but to trust her, and with more than just wiping away the blood he couldn't see. She was the fugitive, after all, the one that probably made a game out of running and hiding from the law every day after dinner. Arguing with her in her area of expertise wouldn't get him any closer to Battousai, as much as he hated to admit it. Because he _really _wanted to argue with her, even with no purpose but to vex her.

When she had finally dragged him through a door he hadn't been particularly surprised as the unmistakable stench of alcohol assaulted his nostrils and he began to choke on the pungent odor of smoke. Wouldn't Otousan be proud.

"There," she finally said, throwing the bloody rag on the table and falling tiredly into the chair facing him. Kenji wrinkled his nose and touched it carefully, almost instantly cringing. That _hurt_ . . . but it was clean and unbroken, right?

She'd still pay for this.

Asuka was now ignoring him, aimlessly drawing pictures in the water condensed on the outside of the now pinkish glass she'd been dipping the rag in.

"Well?"

"Well _what_?" she asked with a cocky jerk of her head.

"You know exactly what!" he spat back. "What do you know about Battousai?"

She glanced up at him with a crooked smile. "I knew you were naive when I found out your were working for Fujita, but honestly kid, what do you expect me to tell you?"

"_Everything!_ That's what we agreed on!"

"And you honestly think I know? I don't even have any leads or clues other than a vague description of his appearance and age. I'm probably no closer to finding him than you are."

_Wh—WHAT?_

Kenji didn't know which feeling he should act on, the empty and plummeting sensation in his stomach or the burning, constricting fury everywhere else.

"Then you just said those things—"

"—to get out of police custody, duh. What would you have done?"

Rage won. She'd regret treating him like this, convincing him by condemning Fujita's manipulation and then doing the exact same thing—he was getting _really _tired of ignorantly being controlled.

"Ookami-musume!" he bellowed, drawing the eyes of the previously unconscious drunk in the corner, the only other customer in the tavern.

"Don't _call_ me that!"

"I'll call you whatever I want, you—"

Suddenly words seemed insufficient to convey his dizzying abhorrence, he opted instead for actions. Asuka was soon furiously wiping dripping bangs from her eyes.

"You idiot! Your blood was in that!"

Kenji knew he'd been spending too much time with Shinya when he just stuck his tongue out at her.

Her next exclamation wasn't entirely intelligible, but her feelings were perfectly clear as she leapt from her chair, gouged her fingernails into his arms and wrenched him off the table, ramming him into the floor. Kenji spit in disgust as water dripped from her hair onto his face; she squealed in revulsion and slapped him.

"Did . . . did you just _slap_ me?"

"You just spit on—AH!"

Kenji had flipped her onto her back but couldn't get a punch in before she was scrambling away; he reached after her but only caught a handful of her long black hair—good enough. He pulled, hard.

"_OW!_" she screamed, yanking her hair from his grip.

"You _lied_ to me!"

"You would have done the same thing to get away from Fujita!"

He started to answer but bit his tongue; she was right. The audacity of this stupid abrasive girl, why was she _always_ winning? WHY!

"You're gonna pay for this!" He had her pinned to the floor again, but his fist halted inches from her face as surprise flashed across her eyes and she yelled.

"Niitsu Kakunoshin!"

"What?"

She was fumbling for a piece of paper in her gi, which she shoved at him with a scowl as she pushed him off.

"He's the only lead I've got, all right? He was a swordsman in the revolution—those are the directions to his place. Just get out of here, I'm sick of you."

Kenji glanced at the scrawled directions then glared back at the girl and with a sigh admitted to himself that this was really his only choice. It was probably a fake lead to get rid of him, but she obviously wasn't giving anything else up, and if she wanted him gone he wasn't complaining. Besides, it was getting late, the tavern would soon fill up and he didn't want to be drawing any more attention to himself. He pushed himself to his feet.

"Good riddance."

Asuka remained motionless on the floor as he left, staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

"So that's what you call a low profile? I guess our interpretations of the term differ considerably."

"I got rid of him, didn't I?"

"And the information? Did you get it?"

"He's from Tokyo. I heard the ninja woman say so."

"Tokyo, huh? That fits with the rumors perfectly. You know what to do?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Shinya wake up, we've got to hurry—"

The snoring boy half-consciously shoved Kenji's arm away and burrowed further into his disheveled bedding.

With a glare at the unconscious figure Kenji snatched his belongings and threw Shinya over his shoulder, shuddering as he felt a string of drool drip down his back.

"Kenji?" the boy mumbled groggily, "what's going . . . where are we?"

"Don't worry, Shinya. We're getting out of here."

* * *

Preview of Chapter 8: **Baka Deshi's Brat**

The first thing Kenji noted as he caught the sword was that it was heavy. Okaasan's bokkens certainly didn't feel like this. Shinya backed up instinctively as he grasped the hilt and pulled, and Kenji smiled hungrily as the emerging blade caught the sunlight. Bokkens didn't do that, either. This thing was real--sharp, deadly, and _real._ So the old man wanted a fight, did he? Well he'd give him one, he'd show him what happened when you messed with Himura Kenji.


	8. Baka Deshi's Brat

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Eight: Baka Deshi's Brat**

"Kenji?"

Kenji jerked in uncomfortable recognition, clenching his already closed eyes shut so tightly he wondered if they might burst under the intense pressure.

_Go away._

"Kenji," the voice repeated calmly, almost pityingly, how he _hated_ that tone, but despite his desperate efforts he couldn't keep his father's face from forcing its way in . . .

"Kenji . . . what are you doing?" Kenshin asked quietly with a pensive half-smile, outstretching a hand as if in invitation.

_Go away!_

"Okaasan and I love you very much, Kenji, and we'd never want anything bad to happen to you . . . please always remember that."

_GO A—_

"Please come home."

_. . . way, _he finished weakly with a choked gasp, his eyes still burning, though for a different reason.

"He'll come back, won't he?" he heard his mother ask fearfully, _fearfully_ . . . he'd never heard her speak that way, _ever._

"Kenji?"

_No, Okaasan. I won't._

The voices started fading as if in disappointment; their rueful calls were replaced by the nearby cry of a crow and what fear had told Kenji were fingers on his face he realized to be no more than wet blades of grass.

. . .grass?

When Kenji's eyes finally slid slowly open he was surprised to see Shinya there, hovering over him with a curious stare, and framed by trees, no less.

"Were you just . . . were you just having a _nightmare?_" the boy asked, and although he was trying to sound teasing Kenji recognized genuine alarm behind the question. He dismissed the concern perhaps prematurely by rolling his eyes and bumping Shinya to the side with his leg, giving himself a view of the overgrown mountain path he was sprawled next to. That's right . . . he'd forgotten they were on the little quest ookami-musume had so graciously left them—and he hadn't expected to fall asleep on their short break. These first few days in Kyoto had taken more of a toll on him than he'd thought.

"Let's get going, Shinya."

He irritably pushed the grass sticking to his left cheek out of the way before rising to his feet and handing Shinya their crude map.

"Finally, I was getting bored!" the boy said before jogging ahead with the directions. Kenji followed lazily, he couldn't say he shared his young partner's enthusiasm.

Everyone he'd met since getting here had lied to him, he was probably a fool for even wishing that this might lead to something. But despite that, here he was, hunting down some hermit potter, just because rumors said he may have been an elite swordsman in the revolution. Frankly, if he wasn't Battousai, Kenji wasn't interested.

"Hey Kenji?"

"Yeah, Shinya?"

"What are we doing here, anyway?"

"Asuka said this guy might know something about Battousai."

"So that _was_ Asuka? Are you working with her now?"

"_No_, I just figured we might as well check it out. Besides, we're not exactly safe in the city anymore, with Misao after us. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to—"

Shinya shoved the hand Kenji had been rubbing his head with away. "I'm not four, you know."

"Maa, maa, sorry Shinya-_chan_, I forgot you're _sooo_ grown—OW! Why did you stop?"

"We're here," Shinya said simply, though there was a satisfied smile on his face.

Reluctantly deciding not to retaliate, Kenji turned his eyes up in slow expectation and saw the hut they'd just come to . . . an old _hut_, nothing more. He felt the hope he'd been trying to bury anyway rapidly deflate. Shouldn't a swordsman as famous as this guy supposedly was live somewhere a little more, oh . . . imposing?

Kenji was about to abandon the mission at that moment, until the creaky door swung open and a grumbling man stepped out. Kenji's first impression was that he was huge, he noticed Shinya gulp next to him, and his second was that the man was old, too old to be threatening . . . although that should have been expected, if the rumors were true. Gray streaked his long dark hair and his shoulders were covered with a ridiculous looking white mantle of some kind which only partially concealed the bottle of sake in his hand.

"Um, hello," Shinya started when Kenji just stared in disappointment, "are you Niitsu-san?"

"You don't need to be so polite, Shinya," Kenji whispered bitterly, "it's just an old drunk guy."

But the old drunk's hearing was better than Kenji had anticipated.

"And you, you annoying miscreant, just what do you want?" His eyes swivelled to Kenji's head and an expression somewhere between a smirk and a grimace crossed his face. Hiko swore quietly under his breath. "Oh, baka deshi, not your brat too."

Kenji glanced at Shinya, who was staring back up at him in confusion and shrugged. "Maybe he's crazy . . ."

Both jumped as the man spoke again in a scolding voice. "_You're_ the crazy ones here, if you actually thought you were going to get away with this."

Kenji quirked an eyebrow.

"You're here to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi, right?" he explained with exasperation.

"The what?" Kenji taunted with an arrogant smile, as if the thought of learning _anything_ from the alcoholic was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "Actually, we're looking for Battousai."

Hiko lowered the cup from his lips. "Battousai?" he asked slowly. "What's wrong with you boy, don't you realize—"

And like Saitou he paused in sickened surprise. So that cowardly and foolish pupil of his had hidden the truth, had he? Did he really think his son would never figure it out?

"Realize what?" Kenji asked as the potter's question faded into contemplative silence. "You know something about him, don't you!"

"Niitsu-san?"

"Answer me!"

"Kenji, I don't think he's—"

"TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!"

"You pathetic little _ingrate!_"

Kenji blinked stiffly at Hiko's outburst. "Wh—What?"

"You ran away from home, didn't you? Your father never would have brought you all the way here if—"

"Hey!" Kenji cried, feeling his face heat with uneasy shame. "That's none of your business, now do you know what happened to Battousai or not?"

"Yes, I do."

"What, then?"

Hiko took a long swig of sake before looking up at Kenji with an almost melancholy gaze. Kenji thought he could nearly see the truth in that look, until he calmly and evasively said, "tell me, did your parents ever let you use a sword?"

A vein in Kenji's head was beginning to throb.

"A bokken," he spat through gritted teeth, "but what does that have to do with—hey, get _back _here!"

The potter was retreating back into his hut, but before Kenji could follow and angrily kick his door down he had returned, a sheathed sword in each hand. "Show me," he murmured, and tossed one to the redhead.

The first thing Kenji noted as he caught the sword was that it was heavy. Okaasan's bokkens certainly didn't feel like this. Shinya backed up instinctively as he grasped the hilt and pulled, and Kenji smiled hungrily as the emerging blade caught the sunlight. Bokkens didn't do that, either. This thing was realsharp, deadly, and _real._ So the old man wanted a fight, did he? Well he'd give him one; he'd show him what happened when you messed with Himura Kenji.

"Ready, old man?"

Hiko just stood there, unsmiling.

"Aren't you going to draw your sword?"

"I don't need to."

"Fine," Kenji muttered, faking calm acceptance of the other man's confidence while internally boiling (it reminded him of Fujita), "your loss." And he attacked.

Hiko held back as Kenji began the battle, settling for blocking attack after attack to ascertain the boy's skill.

_Kamiya Kasshin, eh?_

"Draw your sword!" Kenji yelled after being repelled by just a sheath for about the tenth time.

Hiko yawned.

Kenji skidded to a halt a few feet away and hesitated, his chest already heaving. The old man was better than he'd thought, he was just toying with him—but that was to be expected when he was facing just 'the sword to protect.' It was time to unveil his true potential, it was time for _that_. He'd never actually tried it in battle, but an opportunity like this might not come again . . .

As he made his decision Kenji crouched and smiled fiendishly, slipping his katana back into its sheath; his opponent's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

_Battou Jutsu?_

"Fine," said Kenji, "we'll do it the hard way."

And suddenly Hiko moved; Kenji had finally driven him to attack. Kenji's eyes tried to follow him and succeeded for the first few seconds, until he was . . . gone?

_Move!_

"KENJI!"

Before Kenji's sword was an inch out of its sheath he was face down on the ground, choking on dirt as his lungs gasped desperately for a decent breath. He hadn't even _seen _him . . . how had he struck with that much speed and precision without being seen? Kenji's entire body was trembling feebly in defeat, a searing pain exploded within him, unmatched by anything he'd ever felt before . . . his head, arms, shoulders, waist, chest—he'd hit all of them simultaneously, effortlessly, and driven Kenji to the ground without even drawing his katana. It was almost _inhuman_.

A bright blue eye lurched upward to absorb the image of the intimidating man now hovering over it, the man who could have murdered him just seconds before had he actually tried.

"Where did you learn that technique?" his deep voice demanded.

But Kenji was still gagging on dusty air. Hiko squatted in front of him and pulled him into a sitting position by his shoulders, letting Kenji's head loll weakly forward.

"It wasn't the same as the style you started with—where did you learn it!"

"I've heard the stories," Kenji responded quietly, hoarsely, staring with half-open eyes at the ground, "of . . . of Battousai."

_Heard them? But that stance was perfect._

"There, I played your little game," Kenji continued faintly, pushing Hiko's hands away. "Now where's Battousai."

Hiko chuckled to himself, standing and backing off. "You're really that determined to find him? Why?"

"To gain his strength," Kenji said as he denied Shinya's help and pushed himself to his feet, finally glaring at the man in front of him.

"But I taught him everything he knows."

"Yeah . . . yeah right. You're just a crazy old man."

"I beat _you_."

"You were lucky."

The old swordsman smiled, a similar scene three decades old replaying itself in his head. _Such pride . . ._

"Very well then. Ask your father."

"My father?" Shinya couldn't tell if Kenji's tone was disgusted or disbelieving.

"About Battousai. He can give you the answers you seek."

Kenji's voice had regained and surpassed its normal volume when he replied.

"What's _wrong_ with you, you old lunatic! You don't know my _father!_"

"Your father is Himura Kenshin, your mother, I suspect, Kamiya Kaoru." Kenji's stunned silence affirmed his suspicion. "And I never even got a wedding invitation."

The pain in Kenji's head was intensifying, though not because of the attack. How . . . how could an isolated hermit potter hiding in the mountains of Kyoto _possibly_ know his parents?"

"But . . . but what would my father know about Battousai? He doesn't even fight—"

"Baka, they really have fooled you, haven't they?"

Kenji groaned. "What are you talking about?"

"Just _ask your father . . ._ though I'd prepare to be disappointed."

"Why?"

"The Hitokiri Battousai you seek is long gone, Himura."

Kenji scowled and took a deep breath which was supposed to be calming, but failed. "You crazy old man!" he blurted. "How could you know _anything_, you're not a real swordsman, you've just been hiding away in your pathetic little hut for years and pretending you—AREN'T YOU LISTENING!"

Hiko was taking a quiet sip of sake, and at the end of Kenji's furious tirade calmly turned to Shinya with a smile. "Is he always this difficult to deal with?"

Kenji's resultant scream reminded his two companions of a violently dying animal.

"We're leaving," Kenji fumed, grabbing Shinya's wrist and dragging him in the opposite direction.

"If your father won't answer," the potter called after them, "tell him Hiko sent you."

Kenji halted, his head twisting jerkily back around.

"Hiko? _You're_ Hiko?"

But the self-proclaimed 13th master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was wandering back inside, and only answered with a casual wave.

"Good luck boys."

And the door slammed shut.

* * *

A few hundred miles east a young woman was climbing tiredly off a train onto a crowded platform, smiling to herself as she adjusted her gi and smoothed her dark hair. This was it, the day she'd been awaiting for eight years.

"Welcome to Tokyo, Asuka."

* * *

Next Chapter: **Hunting the Hitokiri**


	9. Hunting the Hitokiri

**danielitar89: **Kenji's only heard of Hiko because Saitou mentioned him awhile back, and even he isn't stupid enough to not wonder if it's more than coincidence.

Thanks for your reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Nine: Hunting the Hitokiri**

"I see . . ."

The police chief gulped guiltily at the look of helpless sorrow on his client's face, he couldn't do much else. Fake encouragement wouldn't help the situation.

"I'm very, very sorry, Himura-san," he mumbled awkwardly, "we're doing everything we can, and we'll inform you immediately if we hear anything."

He wanted to say he was surprised when Kenshin answered with a bright, almost childish grin, but it _was_ Himura he was talking to. "Thank you, we're very grateful for your help."

He barely refrained from pulling his cap down over his eyes.

"Of course . . ."

_Curse Fujita for being ranked higher than I am . . ._

"Well?" Yahiko asked bleakly and without any real hope as Kenshin wandered out of the building to join him, but Kenshin just shook his head.

Yahiko sighed heavily and kicked the ground. "Tsubame won't be happy."

"Mm," was Kenshin's ambiguous response. He didn't want to think of Kaoru's reaction.

Someone was watching Kenshin and Yahiko as they wandered back into the dojo through narrow eyes, her heart thumping so dramatically that she feared Battousai's accentuated hearing might catch it. Red hair, cross-shaped scar on his left cheek . . . and he was accompanied by a younger swordsman Asuka had heard rumors of and recognized by the symbol on his back, the master of the thousand shiratori.

Her fingernails sunk into the wooden engawa where she sat as she followed him with her eyes. He was smiling . . . how _dare_ he, acting like he had the right to actually be _happy_. Her hand reached instinctively for the katana usually at her side, and she cursed at its absence. She supposed he'd been right when suggesting that she leave it behind; carrying it here was dangerous and it wouldn't exactly foster trust with the Himuras, which she technically still had to gain, she'd only pulled the wool over Battousai's wife for the time being. Besides, it had been made unwaveringly clear that she was only here to affirm Battousai's identity, but her unquenchable craving to attack him was growing more difficult to ignore. She could shoot him, she mused, but she wasn't going to make it that easy. He wouldn't just die, he would suffer, he would taste humiliating and undeniable defeat.

She smiled as innocently as possible as Battousai's wife introduced her to the two men, laughing internally at the thorough ridiculousness of the story that had gotten her this far—something about her being kidnapped by some yakuza and barely escaping, then coming here in hopes of some protection after hearing about the school's impressive and powerful reputation.

The fools, they actually bought it (and didn't seem to find it that odd, strangely enough). She had injuries to make the story valid, though, Kenji had left her with plenty of cuts and bruises from the two or three scuffles they'd had since meeting. She never would have thought that brat would actually turn out to be useful

"I'm sorry about that," Battousai was saying, "you can stay here and we'll get you a doctor, all right?" She looked up at him, staring back at his oddly large, sympathetic violet eyes.

_You're good. No wonder your son doesn't know._

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"Well, if you're sure . . ."

"But thanks," she blurted awkwardly, "that would be great."

She smiled with feigned gratitude as Kenshin helped her to her feet, slipping her gloved hand confidently into his (though actually touching Battousai without _doing_ anything was almost sickening). He'd been right to warn her about this, too, Battousai would recognize sword callouses when he saw or felt them. She smirked roguishly when both men had looked away. She was in.

* * *

Being 'in' at the Kamiya dojo, however, wasn't exactly all she'd hoped for. She had to wonder if they suspected her at dinner, because even if the food wasn't poisoned it was nauseating enough to kill someone. After a full half-hour of arguing with Battousai's stubborn wife about her ineptitude in the kitchen Asuka just stormed out; this wasn't what she was here for anyway.

Kenshin had wisely left the room quickly after dinner, assuming Kaoru could handle her on her own (and secretly wishing to avoid a confrontation with the girl; she'd been glaring meaningfully at him through the entire meal when she thought he wasn't looking). But Asuka wouldn't let him off that easy, and he wasn't all that surprised when she stalked out toward him with a livid expression, slamming the shoji shut in Kaoru's face. Kenshin's hopes sunk further when Kaoru followed.

"You know," Kaoru spat after her, "you can leave now, your injuries aren't even that serious."

Asuka scowled. "You're just upset because I'm not immune to your potentially fatal excuse for a meal."

Kenshin was oro-ing and backing away as Kaoru's eyes seemed to burst into flames and she raised a clenched fist.

"You ungrateful little imp!" she shrieked.

"Hag."

Kaoru gave a little sputter of offended disbelief. "G—GET OUT OF HERE!"

"Make up your mind woman, you're the one that invited me in."

"Well now I'm _un_inviting you, so get out!"

Kenshin smiled weakly at the two women, and for just a moment he was grateful to the newcomer for so effectively distracting Kaoru from her consuming worry over their son, even if it wouldn't last.

He decided to intervene, however, when they started getting physically violent.

"Now now, you two really shouldn't be fighting like this—"

Neither woman even shot a glance in his direction, but Kaoru shoved a bucket roughly into his arms. "Get the tofu, Kenshin," she growled.

"Yes ma'am!"

Asuka watched in disgust as he shuffled meekly for the gate. Why was the legendary hitokiri allowing himself to be reduced to such a submissive position? Did he really think that would remove her suspicions?

"You're still here," Kaoru pointed out, and Asuka turned sharply on her heel in a huff to follow Kenshin out. What an aggravating woman . . .

"No wonder Kenji ran away," she muttered to herself.

That statement had been a mistake.

Before she could take another step Kaoru had surprisingly caught up with her, grabbing her shoulders to spin her around quickly and staring at her, not with rage, but hopeful excitement.

"You know where Kenji is?" she whispered exultantly, her face glowing despite the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

And Asuka suddenly and inexplicably felt a new emotion toward the other woman flicker within her before abruptly dying: pity. She didn't quite understand the feeling; she disliked the woman and thoroughly loathed her husband, but realizing how many sleepless nights she'd probably endured since Kenji's disappearance was oddly disquieting. But indiscretion was key.

"I . . . no," Asuka said firmly after a few tense moments of indecision, "I just heard about it."

"Oh." Kaoru released her and turned back to the dojo, her violent conviction to get Asuka out of her home suddenly forgotten. Asuka watched her slip inside with a derogatory frown. _How naive._

She didn't understand; did she even have an inkling that her husband—sweet, helpful, innocent Kenshin—was really that heartless killer?

"Forget it," she muttered. What was she thinking? If she'd ever cared about stupid sentimental things like this she wouldn't have gotten as far as she had; she'd still be cowering at home, doing nothing. She had a job to do, and feeling sorry for Battousai's ignorant wife wasn't part of it.

* * *

Kenshin gave a friendly nod when Asuka jogged up to his side a few minutes later with a disconcertingly convincing smile he knew had to be fake.

"Good afternoon."

"Afternoon," she replied. "It's Kenshin, right?

He responded with that annoyingly cheerful smile and nodded.

"Kenshin, huh? Is that the only name you've ever been known by?"

Kenshin raised his eyebrows and smiled to himself. He hadn't met a girl her age this forward in a long time—not since Kaoru or Misao.

"It's just not a really common name, you know? Don't you have any nicknames?" _Or aliases?_

"None worth speaking of."

She feigned content indifference and continued alongside him. Then, "so whose sword were you polishing back there?"

"That belongs to Yahiko, the one you met earlier. He was a student of—"

"Of yours?"

"Of my wife."

"But surely you have a sword too, you live in a dojo and everything . . ."

"I did when I was much younger."

_You were younger eight years ago._

"Like, in the revolution?"

He didn't seem surprised at her guess. "Hai, Asuka-dono."

She nearly tripped at his way of addressing her; it wasn't the first time but it still caught her off guard. Honestly, what was he trying to pull?

"Is that where you got your scar?"

"You may be asking personal questions a bit too early, Asuka-dono. We only met this morning."

"Then it's a secret."

"I'm sure the story would bore you," Kenshin replied pleasantly.

Asuka looked forward with a frustrated pout. He wasn't going to talk about anything if she kept asking question that allowed him to be so elusive.

"How many people did you kill?"

Kenshin was unfazed by her bold question. "Too many to count, Asuka-dono." She barely suppressed a manic grin, this was it . . .

"But I haven't stained a sword since the revolution."

The grin withered.

Hadn't killed anyone since the revolution? He'd been annoyingly evasive and careful up until now, but he hadn't blatantly _lied_ like . . . like _that_. She found it difficult to breath as her eyes fixed hatefully ahead, her fingers twitched into fists at her sides.

"You've killed _no one_ since the revolution?"

"No, Asuka-dono."

And suddenly she didn't care that she was losing her usual imperturbable self-control, that she was going to end up acting far too soon and without permission.

"Stop calling me that!"

She'd stopped; Kenshin paused and glanced back curiously.

"I'm sorry Asuka-dono, is something wrong?"

"You know," she started abruptly, "you've really fooled everyone better than I'd expected."

He smiled kindly and turned fully around to face her. "I'm sorry Asuka-dono, I'm not sure I follow you."

"I don't care if you won't admit it! I know who you are—"

"I'm afraid you're confused—"

His eyebrows slid up his forehead at her passionately bitter rebuttal.

"How—how can you say that!"

He sighed at the accusatory and aggrieved voice. She was staring furiously at him; she was finally coming out with it. He could tell it was becoming more difficult for her to keep her composure, though she showed no signs of crying.

"You _murdered_ my _mother!_" she spat.

So that was it. She was another misled avenger.

"I promise you that I haven't spilt blood since long before you were born, Asuka-dono."

"How _dare_ you!" she shrieked, and Kenshin was suddenly very glad they were alone on the road. "I saw you, Hitokiri Battousai, I'm not as naive as everyone else; I'm not so blind—"

Kenshin's right hand twitched slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that.

"Everyone has opportunities to change, Asuka-dono. My life has not been spotless, but I haven't killed in nearly thirty years. I couldn't have taken the life of your mother."

"Liar," she whispered venomously, and before Kenshin could disagree she was bolting in the opposite direction, too overcome by long-buried emotions to continue the indictment. Kenshin frowned sadly. So she had misconceptions about Battousai . . . she was even more like Kaoru than he'd thought. But who had confused and deceived _her?

* * *

_"We're staying _here?_" Shinya asked, wrinkling his nose distastefully. 

"We're on the run, Shinya, we don't have a lot of choices."

"But why are we still running from Fujita and Misao-san? You said yourself that looking for Battousai doesn't seem like the best idea anymore anyway."

"I know . . ."

Shinya was right, Kenji knew, there really was no point to this anymore. He hadn't wanted to believe Hiko, but after a lot of meditation he was beginning to realize just how hopeless this journey of his was.

After all, no one had found him since the end of the Bakumatsu, right? Hiko was probably right, and Battousai was likely dead. And there were so many people looking for him . . . his parents, Fujita, Misao . . . it was hopeless, wasn't it? Maybe he should just go get his money, he knew where the tavern Asuka was hiding in was, after all, and Fujita would take any information he could get. But that meant risking being sent home . . .

* * *

Next Chapter: **The Real Himura Kenshin**

Both Kenji and Asuka are in for some big surprises . . .


	10. The Real Himura Kenshin

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Ten: The Real Himura Kenshin**

"You've completed your task, I presume."

"Of course I have."

"And?"

"He's definitely Battousai."

"And I'm sure you were the paragon of self-control when you figured it out," he murmured facetiously.

Asuka simply rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit the disturbing accuracy behind his sarcasm.

"And you're _absolutely_ sure about it?"

"I already said I was," she muttered as she collapsed tiredly into a nearby chair, lifting her feet to the table and yawning. "So what are we going to do about his kid?"

"_He _may be a problem—I hear he's on his way to turn you in."

She flew to her feet. "What!"

Her companion merely answered with an amused smile. "I suggest you hurry."

* * *

Kenji's insides churned uncomfortably as he plodded up to the police station with a sickly frown. He really didn't want to do this; the thought of the coming encounter literally made him feel physically ill. He could already see the glowing triumph on Fujita's face as he finally received the information he'd been plotting to gain all this time, which to Kenji seemed no less humiliating than getting on his knees and openly admitting defeat to the cop's superiority. His shoulders drooped as he sighed miserably, and for just a moment he felt like the epitome of pitifulness. Fujita had won after all. But what other choice did he have? He could really use that money . . .

What was he going to tell him he'd been doing all this time?

"Oi, Kenji! You're back!"

And Kenji suddenly found himself wishing seppuku was still as widely practiced and accepted as it had once been.

"Yeah, is . . . is Fujita here?" he mumbled.

Chou's resultant grin was almost more than he could stand. "Nah, he's out right now," he chuckled. "Finally gave up on Battousai, huh?"

Kenji grumbled something unintelligible but probably profane.

"Come on in, he should be back soon."

The cop-filled building felt even more oppressive than when Kenji had last left, and he did his best to ignore the various knowing smirks he received as he slouched into a chair, crossing his arms defiantly and pretending to observe the rather bland room they'd left him to wait in. He'd probably been the laughing stock of the place since his disappearance—a stupid kid that actually thought he could find the infamous Battousai . . .

Kenji slammed his fist into the arm of the chair and cringed at the sharp pain, then decided to push the bitter thoughts from his mind before he lost his nerve or did something more violent. He turned his eyes to his surroundings, but it took only a few seconds before any fascination he could have had with the room ended—it was just full of cabinets with nothing inside, he was sure, but boring files.

Then inspiration suddenly hit him and he gave the nearest one a meaningful look; his lips twisted up in a victorious leer. _Criminal _files.

Kenji soon found himself on his knees in front of one of them, eagerly yanking the bottom drawer open and poring over name after name, completely disregarding rules of confidentiality he knew must exist. He had one motive which heavily overshadowed the possible consequences—Asuka. He'd been dying to know what exactly it was that Fujita wanted her for ever since he'd suggested that she was "more than just a runaway." Now she obviously had attempted murder and fleeing police custody on her record, but what before that had been vile enough to draw the attention of Fujita?

He didn't have the slightest idea what her family name might be, so he just started at one end and searched drawer after drawer, which became cabinet after cabinet, after cabinet . . . after _cabinet_ . . .

When he'd reached the second to last one he was beginning to realize she wasn't there.

But they _were_ criminal files—he'd thumbed through a few, and there were records detailing everything from petty thievery to serial murder. She _had_ to be here somewhere . . . and there were still a few drawers left. But Kenji's self-assurances were in vain; she wasn't anywhere. There had been a few Asuka's along the way, but pictures and dates had proven to Kenji that none of them matched the one he was looking for.

He leaned back on his heels with a snort after pushing the last drawer shut. Of course she wasn't there. Why would Fujita ever do something that Kenji might actually find useful? Impatiently he stood and began peeking behind the cabinets and around the rest of the room in the desperate hope that maybe he had missed something, maybe something was overlooked. He began opening drawers again and desperately pulled one so far it nearly fell out. But he was glad he did . . . there was something there.

It was shoved so far back and was so filthy that he hadn't even noticed the box before. Carefully he slipped his fingers around it and lifted it from the depths of the dark drawer, sneezing as years' worth of dust billowed up into his face. With a mix of curiosity and impatience Kenji seated himself on the floor and cast the lid carelessly aside, wiping old spider webs off his hands onto his hakama.

The papers in it were much older than any of the others, yellowed and thin and probably forgotten decades ago. Kenji flipped open an envelope on top and let the decaying documents slip into his lap and immediately began looking for dates. He let out a long sigh. These were from the revolution, they wouldn't help him find anything about Asuka, and they didn't even look like criminal files, just a mix of old government documents. He flipped through the rest of the box's contents, just in case, and was angrily reaching for the lid with one hand when his grasp froze on a large envelope at the bottom of the pile, with a single word scrawled messily across it which branded itself into Kenji's suddenly reeling mind.

_Battousai._

For a moment he could do nothing but stare. Fujita had this all along—he hadn't said anything, but now the answers Kenji had run away from home to find sat right in his shaking fingers. Knocking himself out of the temporary trance the discovery had put him in he ripped the stack of papers out greedily and with a hungry grin; he was going to get something out of this humiliating visit after all. He pushed the first few papers on top aside, he didn't care about a detailed record of all of Battousai's murders, but paused at the appearance of something that might actually help him: a picture. And Kenji stopped breathing.

So this was why Asuka had attacked him. After several seconds he could no longer tell himself that his eyes were lying; it really was _him_ staring up ferociously from the decaying page, the old sketch of Battousai looked _just like him_ with one key exception . . .

But it couldn't be . . . there was no way this was possible. Still, report after report said the same thing—red hair, cross-shaped scar, red hair, cross-shaped scar, _cross-shaped scar_ . . . and always on the left cheek.

"No . . ." he protested feebly.

_. . . gave up sword and disappeared after the revolution . . ._

And Kenji found himself running to the open window as Fujita's mockery of his search and Hiko's insistence that he ask his father suddenly made painful sense, and his eyes stung as his entire upper half swung violently out the window and he retched.

He would never forgive him for this.

"Hey Kenji, Fu—" Chou was saying as he wandered in, and Kenji wiped a trail of vomit from his chin.

"Fujita's back?" Kenji asked quietly enough to hide the consuming fury in his voice.

"Yeah, he just . . . what are you doing?"

"Get out of my way!" Kenji ordered madly, and one livid glance had the officer ducking to the side to let him through, scratching his head.

Saitou was sitting casually at his desk as Kenji hurled the door open, and the young redhead's glare of concentrated wrath only inspired him to smile.

"You're back."

Kenji glowered as a spasm shot through each of his already tightly clenched fists. With a lazy, unimpressed gesture Saitou pushed a stack of bills across the desk toward him.

"It's yours, just tell me where she is."

Kenji reached jerkily forward and grabbed the money, his heartbeat quickening as he glared at it and squeezed so hard that his nails pierced a few bills.

Saitou smirked. "Where?"

"You knew all along, didn't you?"

The officer's smile faded by just a fraction, and he leaned forward in slight irritation.

"I don't have time for this, Himura."

"You _did_," he asserted firmly, fiercely, his head throbbing with rage. "You _knew_ but you never told me, you never told me any truth at all!"

"Don't be a fool, Himura."

"You know who my father is!"

"Yes."

"You knew I was looking for hi—for Battousai, but you didn't—"

"What would it have accomplished? Did you think about that at all? You have no idea what to do now, you know he won't train you, so just tell me where Asuka is and forget about it."

"Don't tell _me_ what to do, I'm done!"

Abruptly he hurled the money back at Saitou's desk, knocking over a lamp and setting the cash aflame. Instead of regret he threw Saitou a hateful sneer.

"You're an idiot," Saitou muttered with a glare. "You would have been better off just doing what I told you."

The reflection of the flames blazed in Kenji's fervid eyes. "Shut up," he hissed, "you mean _you_ would have been better off."

"Fujita-san!" someone was yelling from outside, "there's smoke coming from Fujita-san's room!"

Kenji kept glaring as a few officers burst through the door, one hastily dousing the fire while two others restrained him.

"Did he do this, sir?"

Saitou ignored them, resting his chin on his hands and staring carefully at Kenji. The redhead's steely gaze didn't waver; he was neither afraid nor regretful, and Saitou leaned back with a heavy sigh. He wasn't going to get anything out of the boy now.

"Lock him up for now, and notify Makimachi that I need to speak with her immediately."

"Yes sir, we'll—ah—"

Saitou sighed again at their incompetence, disgusted that his subordinates were so easily overcome, as the three men all collapsed, unconscious. The contempt ceased as their bodies tumbled to the floor, however, and was replaced by an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. He noticed the intruder freeze as her eyes met his.

"Asuka," he murmured quietly, not moving from his seat.

She looked aside with a scowl.

Kenji failed to retain the quiet composure of the other two. Both averted surprised glances to him as a stream of vulgar objections burst out of his mouth. Why was Asuka here—was she helping him escape? Why? They hated each other—and if she and Fujita hated each other too why had they just _stared_ at each other? Even now they just stood there . . . what was going on?

_And why did his father have to be Battousai?_

But there was no time, there were more officers in the building; Kenji could hear them running for the room. Furiously he grabbed Asuka—he still wanted answers—and headed for the window. "You better have a good explanation for this, ookami-musume," he muttered just before breaking the glass and jumping through the window, not noticing how the utterance of her nickname had made the cigarette fall from Fujita's gaping mouth.

So their was another wolf around, he thought, quickly regaining composure as his office belatedly filled with the idiots he was forced to oversee. He'd never thought he'd be hunting one of his own kind.


	11. As Lies Dissolve

First off, I need to apologize to all those who have already read this chapter. Yes, it's chapter 11 again, and almost all of it is the same (new people stop reading here: I just changed the end so Asuka and Kenji aren't going to Tokyo together anymore).

So I'm really sorry, both for making you think there was a real update when there wasn't and for letting this story sit for so long. But the way I'd left things with this chapter was making it really difficult to progress in the way I wanted to, so I had to change it. Chapter 12 should hopefully be up soon.

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter 11: As Lies Dissolve**

As he leapt through smoke and shattered glass, bolting down the street with the girl that had once tried to murder him flung unceremoniously over his shoulder, his screams at Fujita still ringing in his ears and flames still burning in his eyes, Kenji wondered for a passing moment if any of this was actually _real_. Wasn't it possible that all of it had been a dream? There was no way that encounter with Fujita and Asuka had really just happened, and there was _no_ possibility that he was actually the _son_ of Hitokiri Battousai . . . right?

"Put me _down!_" the struggling figure on his shoulder screamed, and Kenji easily complied, dropping Asuka roughly in the dirt as he came to a halt on a dark street where he could ask his questions without drawing attention to the two of them. He didn't want to admit that any information she might give him now seemed negligible compared to what he'd just figured out.

"What are you doing here ookami-musume—"

She'd been distracted brushing herself off, but now glared vengefully up at him. Kenji soon found himself against a wall, the front of his gi wrapped in Asuka's fists.

"Stopping _you!_" she cried, yanking him forward and pushing him forcefully back to crack his head against a building. "I can't believe you were going to turn me in!"

"We're not friends, ookami-musume," he reminded her in a bitter tone, leaning instinctively back, "you would have done the same thing for money."

"Money? _Money!_" she exclaimed, shaking him now, "I thought all you cared about was Battousai!"

"I have all the information I need now, no thanks to you," he muttered, shoving her off.

"So you figured it out?" she asked, smiling snidely. "And I had to go all the way to Tokyo—"

Now it was Asuka's turn to be held against a wall, Kenji's hand dangerously close to her neck.

"You were in _Tokyo?_" he repeated in fierce disbelief. "You said you didn't know anything else, you said—"

"And you're still not used to being lied to," she opened her eyes and choked out, still capable of sarcasm.

For a moment he seemed to be considering finishing her off right there.

"Did you tell them where I am?" he ground out.

She heaved for breath and coughed. "What?"

"Did you tell my _parents_ where I _am?_"

"Why would I do that? I don't care about your stupid family problems Himur—"

She gasped and slipped tiredly down the wall as he finally released her, holding one hand to her throat.

"Forget it," he muttered, turning away, "I need to go back now anyway."

"What will you do?" she asked hoarsely.

Kenji glared at the ground. That was a good question; what _was_ he supposed to do? Go back to Tokyo and . . . what? Yell at his father a little, be scolded by his mother, and let things go back to normal? No. But he wasn't going to stay away, he wanted to hear the confession from Kenshin's own mouth . . . and he wanted to _do _something about it. But what was he supposed to do, attack his own father?

He paused as Asuka's calm voice cut smoothly through his inner scuffle.

"Did you have any idea?"

He snapped at her. "What!"

"Well, did you ever suspect anything like this?"

"I'm not the kind of kid that idly wondered if his father had any deep, humiliating secrets, ookami-musume."

"They hid it really well, then."

He whirled on her with a retort, but her quiet, almost sorry gaze mollified him. She was right, after all. They _had_ hid it with unnatural talent. What else didn't he know . . . ?

Asuka watched him frown and stepped slowly forward. "How are you going to get there?"

"I'll figure something out."

She reached into her gi. "I bet you could use this."

He glanced up at her; she was casually tossing his wallet in the air—the wallet that had been stolen weeks ago by that little whelp . . .

"You—that little brat _works for you?_"

"No."

"Then how?"

She merely smiled.

He glared back with angry skepticism. "And I suppose you expect me to trust and welcome you along now?" He cut off her answer by continuing. "Sorry, but you've lied to me enough. I'm not stupid enough to make any more deals with you."

"I'm not the only one you've been stupid enough to trust."

"He was my _father_, ookami-musume."

Asuka just shrugged. "I meant Fujita."

A slight growl could be heard in the back of Kenji's throat.

"You always have other motives."

"Yes, and those other motives are always getting Battousai, remember?"

"You attacked me when you thought I was him; you don't just want to 'get' him, you want to kill him."

"Don't you?"

He glanced up in surprise, and she stared back expectantly with an arched eyebrow. Her question had been so simple, as if the response was unbearably obvious . . .

"I . . . I'm not like you, I won't kill—"

"Did he tell you that?"

Kenji swallowed hard.

"You're still going to listen to the lies he's fed you for your entire life, even now? He's the last person that should be preaching to you about killing people, his murders are uncountable. I guess you know best though, he's not _my_ dad, after all."

An image of his benignly smiling father entered Kenji's spinning mind, and then that sketch of Battousai . . . which was real?

_The second, of course._

Everything else had been an act, a lie, the product of a deceptive bubble his parents had built to raise him in. Innocent, laundry-loving, always oro-ing Kenshin . . . he was a mask.

"Why didn't you just finish him off while you were in Tokyo?"

"I couldn't have taken him out on my own. He's strong, Kenji."

He felt the protests he'd used before, how his father had never even used a sword, rising to the forefront of his mind. But Asuka was talented, he knew, he'd fought her, and if she feared his abilities . . .

He _was_ Hitokiri Battousai, after all. So what was he going to do?

"To Tokyo, then?"

He turned a frantic electric blue gaze on her. His throat was tight.

"Shut up and stay out of it ookami-musume. I'll do this by myself."

"Hey—"

But one more contemptuous glare silenced her, and after snatching his wallet from her he was already stalking madly in the other direction.

* * *

Shinya was less excited at the prospect of returning to Tokyo.

"Hey! How'd it—" he started as the door slid open, but he stopped as a hard-gazed Kenji stepped in.

"What happened?"

"You're going home now, Shinya," Kenji said firmly. "Pack your things."

"You're not—"

"I'll be following shortly."

"Kenji, what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Shinya. Stop asking questions and get ready to leave."

"Right now?"

"_Now_."

"Kenji, I don't understand—"

"SHINYA!"

The boy cowered back, looking up with confusion and apprehension.

"Get your things _now_, you're leaving on the next train," Kenji articulated dramatically and with an impatient stare.

"No."

"What?"

"No! I don't know what's going on, but I'm not just leaving you here while—OW!"

Shinya touched his stinging cheek and glared hatefully at the back of Kenji's hand, also red.

"Shut up and do it now, Shinya. You're not getting any more involved."

"You jerk."

"Go home and tell Okaachan, Shinya."

Tears were beginning to gather in the younger boy's eyes. It was the first time Kenji had ever seen such a reaction in him.

"Kenji, why . . . ?"

"I said don't ask questions! You don't have a lot of time."

In the end Kenji ended up dragging an unconscious Shinya to the train station, explaining his comatose state as another inconvenient fit of narcolepsy. Kenji almost smiled at his own oddly convincing assurances that he'd wake up by the time the train made it to Tokyo, and that there was family waiting there for him. And the workers bought it, carrying Shinya carefully onto the steam engine and assuring his concerned "brother" that they'd make sure he made it safely.

* * *

"I'm impressed, Asuka," a man mused that evening after she'd reported on the situation.

"Child's play," she responded gleefully.

She glanced over at her companion, half-expecting more praise, and was surprised to see him calmly polishing her katana.

"So I'll be needing it after all?"

"Of course."

"Why? Himura will take care of Battousai—"

"No, he won't." She looked at him questioningly. "He's feeling plenty of hatred, but he lacks the experience to take someone's life, especially his own father's."

"Then I'm to finish the job."

"You know that's not our objective, Asuka. Battousai will suffer, not die . . .yet. It is your responsibility," he sheathed the sword and handed it to her, "to take the life of Battousai's precious wife."

Asuka had been reaching for her katana; she stopped just before wrapping her fingers around it.

_Kaoru?_

"But—"

"But? What do you mean, '_but_'? We agreed on this long ago, Asuka, had you forgotten?"

"I just . . ."

"This _is_ what you want, isn't it? You remember what he's done to you, don't you?" He was still holding the sword toward her and waited with angry expectation.

Asuka shook her head rapidly and grabbed the weapon firmly. "Of course," she murmured, "forgive me. I understand."

"Good."


	12. Vengeance

Well, here you go, Chapter 12. I hope it meets your expectations. And thanks reviewers, you're wonderful. _Maeli._

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter 12: Vengeance**

Kenji slowly peeled his cheek off the table to rest his forehead in its vacated place and squeeze his arms over his ears. You were supposed to go to a tavern when you had nowhere else to go, right? That's what Yahiko did when Tsubame kicked him out of the house for getting into dangerous street fights. He didn't see how it helped—you couldn't even think with all the noise everyone was making. A drink or two may have helped, but considering his current mental state Kenji was a bit apprehensive of inebriation.

He wondered what they would have thought if they'd seen him arriving at the train station just an hour or so ago, dressed in black and disappearing into the darkness, his usually defiant face grey and drawn with exhaustion. Fortunately he hadn't encountered any previous acquaintances; he didn't want them to know he had returned yet, or ever, for that matter. Everything had seemed so easy until he'd stepped off that train and taken a few steps toward the dojo, then reeled in panic in the opposite direction.

He had thought he knew what he wanted, but gradually hatred had become diluted with indecision. He had let his emotions carry him past reason at first, nothing new for the hotheaded teen, but this time was miserably different. His anger had slowly petered from a burgeoning flame of rage to a still pervading but weaker flare, no more than emotional kindling. Why this sudden hesitation? Because when he got here, he realized he didn't even want to _see_ his father, much less kill him as Asuka had so confidently suggested. But he'd sent Shinya back, so his parents were no doubt now aware that he'd been in Kyoto. And now that he'd returned it was only a matter of time until they learned he was here. He knew the confrontation was inevitable, but what was he really supposed to do when . . . well, what about his mother?

He should have been angry with her too, there was no way _she_ hadn't known about this. She'd lied too . . . she'd gushed about the Kamiya Kasshin as the only style Kenji could ever need while knowing something superior was residing in the house the whole time. So why he was so worried about retaliating against his father for her sake, he didn't know. This had been so much easier just after he'd found out. Kenshin was a deceptive liar, and he deserved to pay for it. That single truth had been the only thing cycling through Kenji's mind, so why did these details have to get in the way?

But whatever he ended up doing—or not doing—Kenji knew things would never be the same after this. As he'd revived from sleep on the train he'd opened his eyes to see a Tokyo he didn't know rolling by through the window. This place didn't feel like home anymore . . . it was a place of deception, a place he'd run away from, and he suddenly found himself wondering if it had been worthwhile to return at all. Maybe a more effective revenge would just be disappearing forever. But he'd come with a purpose, a purpose which seemed to hang like a rancid, lingering stench in the humid air, and regardless of the consequences he was going to carry it out—whatever 'it' was—eventually.

He raised bloodshot eyes as a glass clinked on the table in front of him. An indifferent voice accompanied the tempting liquid.

"You look like you could use this."

Kenji rolled his head to the side to get a look at his benefactor, but the slim young man had already turned away to address the bartender with a bored expression. With a sigh Kenji grabbed the glass—it had already been paid for, after all, it would be wasteful to refuse it. And besides, his head _really_ hurt. It wasn't that much. So he tipped his head back and guzzled it.

But Kenji had never had alcohol before.

The man next to him watched with one thin eyebrow arched as Kenji dropped the glass and alcohol sprayed from between his lips, then collapsed back onto the table red-faced and coughing. The man blew his dark bangs out of his face as he shook his head.

"Idiot."

Kenji moaned and slammed his head once against the wood supporting it.

"So," the corpulent bartender continued, ignoring Kenji, "I hear you had a close call in Kyoto."

Kenji's stool neighbor smiled dryly.

"It's true, I was nearly apprehended by Fujita on my way out."

Kenji's attention shot to the man, though he wasn't stupid enough to move.

"Caught ya for smuggling again, huh?" His companion shrugged in feigned innocence, inspiring a chuckle.

"So what's he doing in Kyoto?"

"I'm not entirely sure, though I hear he's back in contact with Battousai."

"Working together again, huh? They're a fearsome pair. I heard the last time the—"

He was interrupted as a stool crashed to the ground and the redheaded boy that couldn't hold his liquor stalked out, a katana grasped tightly in his white-knuckled fist.

_Working with Fujita, he was WORKING with FUJITA!_

The recent Fujita escapee's lips slid into a thin smile.

"Asuka?"

"Yeah?" she responded coolly from where she sat on the floor, hidden from view near the bartender's feet.

"That's your cue."

She stood and shouldered her sword without comment.

"And Asuka?"

"What is it?"

"If that brat falters again, kill him too."

* * *

Kenshin's eyes flew open for what was probably the sixth time that night alone, though this time he was nearly _sure_ that he'd actually heard something. Kaoru was still breathing heavily at his side, and he tucked the blanket closer around her as he rose from their futon and picked up the sakabatou. He was grateful he'd borrowed the sword from Yahiko, even though he thought the warning he'd gotten from Saitou that someone may be coming after him soon seemed unrealistic. It was strange to hold the sword after this many years, but there was no one to hide it from anymore, with Kenji gone.

He knew whoever had arrived—if indeed someone actually _had_ arrived—would be able to see him the instant he stepped outside; the moon was nearly full and he would be easily visible in his white yukata. Squinting in the darkness, he realized the intruder had been wiser and had managed to successfully conceal himself.

Then the gate creaked again, and Kenshin realized there really was someone there, he just hadn't entered yet. Realizing it was barred shut, the figure on the other side opted for climbing it, and the sakabatou slipped through Kenshin's fingers until one end hit the dojo's porch as a red head much like his own slipped above the barrier. As the figure pulled himself over and landed silently on the ground, Kenshin swelled with relief and gratitude.

Kenji heard his name quietly exclaimed from across the courtyard and looked up, glaring.

"Tousan."

"Welcome home."

Instead of responding Kenji glanced at the sakabatou and glowered angrily.

"You knew I was coming."

Kenshin glanced at the sword as if he'd forgotten he was carrying it and nearly dropped the weapon as he recognized the position he'd been caught in . . . until he realized that Kenji didn't seem particularly surprised . . .

"Yahiko lent it to your mother," he said lamely, "we've had some concerns with an intruder; he wanted her to be prepared with a real sword."

Kenji's face adopted a look of sarcastic acceptance as he mouthed 'oh' and nodded.

"Was it the intruder Fujita warned you of?"

Kenshin froze. Something wasn't right here . . . Shinya had made it clear that they'd been with Saitou, but Kenji couldn't possibly know of his history with the man . . .

Then with horror Kenshin caught sight of the sheath at Kenji's side, and could only watch in grief as his son drew his sword calmly, fluidly, and ran a finger down the cold steel.

"Because that was me."

* * *

Kenji wasn't the only one scaling dojo walls that night. Asuka made sure Battousai had left the building before lurking in from the other side, but then it was just her, the sleeping Kaoru, and her katana.

"Kaoru."

The sleeping figure just told Kenji to make his father take him to the bathroom.

Asuka sighed heavily. "Kaoru!" she said more sharply, and the older woman's eyes jolted open, though she still seemed only half-conscious.

"What is it?" she grumbled, sitting up and rubbing an eye.

"Kaoru, it's me."

"Who . . ." then she gasped. "Asuka!" The bedcovers flew to the side and Kaoru was on her feet. "Where's Kenji?"

At first Asuka was confused. She'd already told Kenji's mother that she didn't even know her son, but then realization dawned. That kid . . . Kenji had probably sent him back, and he'd most likely told them everything. There was no point in denying their connection now.

"He's with Kenshin."

Kaoru glanced at the empty futon and frowned. "That idiot, why didn't he wake me?"

Asuka looked down. "Kaoru."

Something in her voice made Kaoru forget both the frustration of their last meeting and her excitement at her son's return. The young woman sighed.

"Kaoru, I know who your husband is. And because of—"

"Let me guess," Kaoru interrupted, folding her arms, "you've come here to kill me."

She sighed at Asuka's blank look. "Great."

"I'm afraid this is serious, Kaoru."

"Believe me, I know."

* * *

"You know," Kenji said in an eerie, almost conversational way as he took a few trial swings, "they say you were legendary, the greatest swordsman seen in Japan in generations." He swung his sword down hard and paused to look at Kenshin with a hateful frown. "I want you to show me what you've been hiding."

Kenshin did nothing.

"You're not going to fight? Don't you remember what you were—" he spat disdainfully, "Battousai?"

Kenshin stared back, eyes wide. His chest was tight, and for some reason he found himself incapable of movement.

"Kenji you don't understand—"

"You're right, I _don't_ understand, but maybe I would if you hadn't _lied_ all these years."

"Kenji," his father said sternly, "stop it, you don't know what you're do—"

"_Shut up and fight me!_"

In that moment Kenshin knew that this rift was irreparable. This wasn't the Kenji he knew, the fractious and reckless but still innocent boy he and Kaoru had raised. There was something too manic in that growing grin. At first he'd felt as though a reincarnation of himself was glaring at him from across the courtyard, but this was worse. There had never been that much lust for battle in his eyes.

"Come on Tousan," Kenji was saying eagerly, "Hiten Mitsurugi against Hiten Mitsurugi. You knew I was capable of it all along, didn't you? Hiko asked me if I wanted to learn it; unlike you he didn't know I already have."

Kenshin frowned. _Hiko?_

"Is he the one that did this to you?" he asked, realizing even as the words fell from his mouth that that couldn't be true.

"No," Kenji mocked, "that was _you._"

And before he could respond Kenshin found himself facing his own furious Ryu Tsui Sen. This was what he'd feared ever since Kaoru had told him she was pregnant; this was the moment he drew a sword against his own son.

Kenji laughed as his father easily blocked the attack and the two swords quivered against one another.

"So you do know how to use one."

"Don't be an idiot, Kenji. Stop this."

"You could have prevented this years ago, Tousan. It's too late now."

The younger redhead pulled back and jumped several feet away from his opponent, sheathing his sword. Kenshin watched in strange discontentment for a moment before slowly following suit and falling into his own long unused battou jutsu stance. The last time he'd faced this had been with Soujirou.

He grimaced as they both moved, hair swept back by their speed. Kenji was smiling as one hand pulled on his katana's hilt, Kenshin was cringing. Both blades were whipped out inhumanly; Kenshin gasped as they made contact. His son was stronger than he'd anticipated.

Kenji reveled in the raw power of the battle, conversely disgusted with the fact that it had been denied to him for so long. It had been right under his nose the whole time . . . this was Battousai, this was real skill, this—

"Ow!"

He fell back when suddenly and unexpectedly struck with Kenshin's sheath.

"That's the kind of cheap tactic Hitokiri Battousai resorts to?"

"This is the Hiten Mitsurugi, Kenji. You don't know all of it."

With an agitated roar Kenji charged, turning his head in confusion when his target disappeared, just in time to see the blunt end of the sakabatou hammer him in the chest. His face reddened in anger and embarrassment as the breath was knocked out of him and he fell to his back. Kenshin stood over him, sheathing the sakabatou, his victorious look overwhelmed with sadness.

"It's over, Kenji."

"NO!"

The boy lunged to his feet, and Kenshin staggered backwards as Kenji's aggressive fist made straight contact with his nose. He could have blocked it . . . but part of him felt like he'd deserved that one.

"WHY?" Kenji demanded as he seized his katana and pointed it at Kenshin's bleeding face. His voice was desperate, his pale face contorted with fury and fear, "why didn't you tell me who you were? I could have learned your style, _I could have handled it!_" Kenshin began to stand, but Kenji thrust his sword closer. "No! TELL ME WHY YOU LIED!"

Breathing heavily, Kenshin stared despondently up at the child that had rendered him defenseless and now domineered malevolently over him, and had the sudden urge to cry.

_What have I created?_

Kenji was raising his sword.

The possibilities held in that moment would long haunt both men's minds, but before Kenji could strike, before Kenshin could retaliate, a paralyzing, anger-shattering shriek echoed from inside, and both Himuras stiffened in terror. Kenshin's fearful eyes flew to the dojo and he was already running when Kenji let his sword fall and staggered after him, trying to ignore the dread crawling up his spine as he forced out the choking cry, "Okaasan!"


	13. A Sacrifice

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Thirteen: A Sacrifice**

As Asuka thoughtlessly fingered the hilt of her katana and stared down the curious target in front of her one annoying thought superceded all others, which she voiced in a derogatory sigh.

"This is stupid."

Battousai's wife was just an average civilian (the master of a dojo, sure, but with a motto like 'the sword to protect' how powerful could she be?), a woman, rather weak-looking, and she had no visible weapon. Besides, she had just awoken, and the haze of recent sleep left her movements slower than normal. Asuka quirked an eyebrow. Was he serious? The idea that she would be sent to finish off someone so hugely insignificant bordered on insulting, especially since the murder would be completely pointless. She had no taste for the psychological warfare her opponent seemed to have adopted a penchant for; she merely wanted the carnal satisfaction of slaying the monster Battousai. Instead that idiot Kenji had been sent on what should have been her job, and she was stuck tending to the naively presumptuous little wife.

She'd been surprised when Kaoru had confidently and accurately guessed the purpose of her return and had to wonder if the woman was really serious.

"Why aren't you scared?" she demanded casually, gripping her katana as if to give her another reason to be.

Kaoru frowned at her. "You don't really expect me to be afraid of any girl with a katana, do you?"

Where was that assurance coming from? Shouldn't she be at least a _little_ bit shocked that someone had broken into her home in the middle of the night to kill her? Instead she almost behaved as if this was _common_, like she was used to it or something. And when Asuka had barged in and without thinking proclaimed 'I know who your husband is' Kaoru hadn't looked surprised, confused, or anything of the sort—just irked.

Asuka drew her sword with a sigh. "Sorry Kaoru, I'm more than I appear to be. It's time to get this over with." She inhaled sharply and jerked her katana back to attack.

"Idiot," Kaoru said simply, "killing me or my husband won't bring your mother back."

Yet another example of the unexpected—Asuka choked and lowered her sword an inch, looking up at Kaoru in angry shock.

"He _told_ you?" she exclaimed in horror.

"He doesn't keep things from me anymore," she said, her tone tempting Asuka to ask, _do you know?_

"You don't know what he really is."

"What, Battousai?" she asked with a laugh. "Half of Tokyo knows that, Asuka. Do you really think you're the first one that's thought of targeting the girl to get to the hitokiri?"

Asuka gulped. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen . . .

"When did you—"

"The day after we met, eighteen years ago. He's really not very good at hiding it."

_And that doesn't bother you?_ Kaoru didn't seem like the kind of wife that wouldn't mind when her husband went off slaughtering people.

"Kenshin didn't kill your mother," Kaoru continued in an almost rehearsed way, "he hasn't killed since the revolution. The sword he's used since then is a reverse-blade, and he passed that on years before your mother died—"

"How many people have you fed this story to?"

"Would you just listen?" Kaoru demanded, raising her voice for the first time in the conversation, a surprising feat considering the circumstances. "Do you know how I met him? I attacked him," she said bluntly, "because I saw his sword and I thought he was Battousai and had been murdering people under my school's name. I was right, he _was_ Battousai, but he wasn't the killer. People abuse his name, Asuka, it creates fear."

Without realizing it Asuka was letting the point of her katana drop to the floor. No, this was just what Kaoru wanted her to think. She was making a desperate attempt to save herself, that's all.

"I know you want revenge Asuka, but you're after the wrong person. If you don't believe me at least face Kenshin yourself. This is pretty cowardly."

Her jaw fell. _Cowardly?_

"You little—"

But Kaoru just stared expectantly at her, arms folded, her eyes asking, _well?_

_Coward._

Asuka swore and stabbed the floor.

"This is the most ridiculous—" she muttered as she wrenched her katana back out and held it to her hand. Kaoru watched wide-eyed as she took a quick breath and dragged the blade across her open palm, letting red drops drizzle to the floor.

"What are you doing!"

Asuka wiped blood generously across the sword; she could make him believe this sword had killed someone, especially when he just glanced at it in the dark. She looked up at Kaoru with stony eyes. "Don't think this means I believe you, because it doesn't."

Kaoru saw what she was doing. "I could punch you in the face or something to make it look like I fought back."

Asuka balked. "What?"

Kaoru responded with a sly grin. "For the sake of making it believa—" She paused, looking past Asuka suddenly. The younger woman raised an eyebrow uneasily; for the first time there was fear in Kaoru's face. "What?" she asked tentatively.

Kaoru didn't answer. There was a soft chuckle. "Shame on you, Asuka-chan."

Asuka's eyes narrowed. "You were supposed to wait outside."

"And _you_ were supposed to kill her." The slim man was leaning casually in the doorway, neither knew how long. He placed a hand on Asuka's shoulder as he strolled up to her, but she stared at her feet.

"Take care of your hand," he murmured as he grabbed her wrist and removed the sword from her grasp. "I expected better from you. We'll talk about this later."

With her katana in hand he turned on Kaoru, who seemed to recognize the legitimacy of this threat but only glared defiantly. Asuka seemed irresolute.

"Go, Asuka."

She blinked. "Kaoru?"

"Do you want him to kill both of us? Just run."

_Asuka run!_

She gasped. _Not again . . ._

"Stop it!" Asuka blurted, grabbing the back of his gi. "We can't do this—" He brushed her hand off and gave an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

"Why the sudden sense of justice, Asuka? You had no qualms about killing Himura Kenji."

Asuka did her best to avoid Kaoru's eyes. "I thought he was Battousai, you know that. And I didn't really kill him—come on, let's stop wasting our time with her."

He turned all the way around with a mocking smile. "Pitiful. You've become soft, haven't you."

She grimaced. "No!"

"Then just wait while I take care of this."

"But this isn't the right way to get to him!"

But his back was to her. He was again focused on Kaoru.

Asuka shook her head. _I can't believe I'm doing this_.

"Cut it out!" she exclaimed angrily, and without further thought Asuka rushed to her companion, wrapping her arms under his from behind in an effort to prevent the attack. She heard him sigh, and at first thought she was in for no more than a mild scolding. But then his elbow caught her in the forehead, there was a white flash and she was on her back.

"I told you to be quiet and watch," he chastised calmly. "Are you betraying me?"

Her hands were holding her head; she peeked between them up at him but remained silent. With a smile he turned around again. She couldn't stop him, he was stronger than she was.

_Do something!_

She heard the crash of swords hitting, and an idea struck her. So she did the only thing she could think of; she screamed.

Both gave her a curious look, seemingly doubtful of her sanity, until the distant cry of "Okaasan!" reached their ears. Kaoru smiled in relief and he glared, forgetting his target long enough to pull Asuka to her feet by the front of her gi. The Himura men were coming.

"You _idiot_."

The distance to the dojo had never seemed so long to Kenji as he darted after his father, that raw scream still ringing. But when it stopped . . .

He felt a new burst of speed. "Okaasan!"

His father was just standing in the doorway of his bedroom, heaving and pale. Kenji scrambled to his side to look in; his face turned red.

Kaoru's gleeful cry of "Kenji!" was lost somewhere in the shock.

"_YOU!_"

Asuka and the man from the tavern, how convenient. So they'd conspired to distract him and Kenshin while they went after Kaoru? Well he'd show her—

"I never thought you'd go _this_ far, you filthy—"

"Just shut up, Himura," Asuka ground out, her eyes fixed on those of the man who Kenji noticed had a rather rough hold on her. His face was livid, her stare back was determined, yet somehow still fearful.

After a few moments the man seemed to lose interest; he roughly pushed her aside and turned to Kaoru again. Kenshin reached for his weapon and in a panic Kenji realized he'd left his behind, but before either could move Asuka had grabbed his sword and wrenched him back around.

"I want revenge, but not on Kaoru," she whispered harshly. "If you want to kill her, you'll have to get through me first."

Kenji jerked back. _What?_

His eyes narrowed. "Fine, have it your way. A back-stabbing ally is useless anyway."

Asuka was still opening her mouth to retort when he struck.

It wasn't a half-hearted, squeamish strike as hers would have been; he held no reservations about disposing of someone in his way, no matter how long they'd been working together or how much they'd trusted one another in the past. Blood was warm, and Asuka saw the liquid spilling liberally from her side, but as she fell she felt inexplicably cold. Then, with a disgusted sneer, he thrust the bloody katana to the floor and turned, shooting Kenji a mocking smirk as he fled (facing three Himuras at once wasn't something even he dared now—and Kenshin had his sword out).

Kenji just gaped as specks of red splashed on his face, staring blankly at the dark hair and blood splattered across the floor. Kaoru was kneeling next to the body and crying. It took a moment for the name she was shouting despairingly to register.

"Asuka! Stay awake Asuka, don't close your eyes—"

Kenji shrank back uncomfortably. It really was _Asuka_, staring up at Kaoru through glazed, half-open eyes. His mother looked up to the two of them for help, but her face reflected even more grief as she caught sight of the blood drying around Kenshin's nose and the fresh red mark glaring across Kenji's white chest.

"Kenji?"

She looked back down as Asuka made an unnerving gurgling sound. "Sorry," she whispered weakly, "I couldn't stop him by myself."

_Stop him?_ Kenji thought, numbing. While he'd been attacking his own father she'd been here, trying to protect the wife of her archenemy. She'd saved Kaoru's life . . ?

"Kenji, get a doctor!"

He remained stationary as Kenshin joined Kaoru on the floor and started removing his gi to hold it to her wound.

"What happened?"

She managed a feeble glare. "Well I couldn't kill Kaoru . . . and I didn't know he was watching. I wanted to just go after you, but that wasn't his plan—"

"Sh," Kenshin hushed as she cringed at the pain, "don't push yourself."

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily, ignoring his instructions. "You should be glad I'm dying."

Kenji's chest tightened. _Dying?_

Kaoru was the one that answered. "Kenshin's been worried about you since you disappeared . . . stupid . . ."

She looked squarely at Kenshin for the first time. "But you killed . . ."

Kenshin calmly shook his head.

"Who was he?" Kenji interrupted quietly, and Asuka swallowed and looked up at him bitterly.

"Toru-san . . ."

Kenji's eyes widened as hers began to slip closed, and he dropped to his knees next to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Hey, wake up!"

She was dying . . . she'd disobeyed orders and saved his mother's life and these were the consequences . . . he'd been off trying to harm (he couldn't bring himself to say kill) his own father. Kenji dropped his head as his attempts to awaken her failed.

"This was between me and Battousai, no one else!" he hissed. Kaoru's worried gaze twitched from the dying girl to her son. _Battousai?_ Kenji ignored her, and Kenshin remained still when she looked to him to explain, his eyes falling. But the truth was there, _he knew_. Kaoru felt more tears spill over. Her son and her husband, they'd been _fighting_.

Trying to suppress the screaming fury and shame in his head, Kenji gathered the limp body in his arms and rose. "Kenji!" his mother cried as both parents followed suit, but he couldn't bring himself to look at either of them and with eyes fixed on the moist red floor quietly muttered "don't follow me." Then he ran.

He heard Okaasan calling frantically after him, but he wasn't going back now, or ever. He had to find out what was going on, all that mattered at this moment was getting away and saving her, because she was the only one who knew where he'd be able to find that monstrous stranger.

And because he owed her his mother's life.

As Kenji ran and Kenshin watched, the same thought ran through each mind: if he'd just told the truth, none of this would have happened. Kenji wouldn't have run away, he wouldn't have met Asuka, she wouldn't have come to Tokyo . . . and she wouldn't have sacrificed her life to save Kaoru while they were crossing swords.


	14. Runaway Again

Thanks **Blunablue** for your review on the last chapter, and it would be great to get some more from the rest of you this time around...

Anyway, thanks for your feedback and support, it's always appreciated and helpful. _Maeli_

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is not mine

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Fourteen: Runaway Again**

"Shinya, get the doctor!" Yahiko bellowed. Kenji gasped involuntarily as the limp body was abruptly pulled from his grasp and Yahiko stalked inside, turning to sharply inform him to hurry and follow.

He hated the hint of accusation in Yahiko's eyes.

Shinya's tousled head had appeared at the top of the stairs, and he stared blearily down at the three of them before his nostrils twitched at the scent of blood. The foggy eyes widened and he gave Kenji one spiteful look before his gaze fell on Asuka and he paled fearfully.

"Shinya, go!"

The boy tripped down the stairs in surprise and still in nothing but his yukata darted out the door, making a point of avoiding any glance at the redhead. He didn't pause for shoes. Kenji's eyes fell.

A mumbling Tsubame had followed her son down. "Yahiko, what's . . ." she murmured, then her hands flew to her mouth—but not before she'd let a short horrified shriek slip out.

"Take care of Kenji, will you?" Yahiko asked, disappearing past her up the stairs.

"Yahiko, wait!" Kenji pleaded, but he was ignored, and before he could protest further she was peeling off his sticky gi and frantically scrubbing the blood away. He shuddered, and as a door upstairs slammed shut he dropped to his knees, still struggling to catch his breath. Tsubame unconsciously stepped backward as he slammed the floor with both fists, smashed his forehead against the wood and uttered a long, almost inhuman roar of terrified fury. After several seconds he choked, and the wail petered into a pathetic, confused whimper. Needle-like fingers latched onto each upper arm, and while blinking back tears Tsubame pulled a blanket over his shoulders, wrapping her arms around the boy as he broke into painful, exhausting sobs.

* * *

When Shinya returned with a flushed and wheezing doctor, Kenji had managed to escape Tsubame's attentions and follow him to Asuka. Now he stood in the hallway. It was black, but that suited him; he felt a little less reproachable hidden from the curious and confused gaze he knew was directed at him. Besides, his senses still needed a reprieve after that overload, and right now the only sounds were the continuous quiet clatter of the doctor's tools on the other side of the door and an occasional concerned sigh from Yahiko. Kenji's eyes felt swollen and dry, the rest of him cold and clammy. He slid down the wall in anxious darkness for the verdict, but he held little hope. Upon first seeing the patient the doctor's expression had twisted into a regretful scowl; it said enough. Asuka was likely dead.

He'd never hear anything more about this "Toru-san" person, never know why he and Asuka were after his father, or what in the world had possessed her to sacrifice herself like that. Somehow he found himself more angry with her now than he'd ever been before, that stupid . . . ookami . . .

He dropped his head so it rested on his knees. He didn't want her to die.

If she'd just run off and gotten herself killed somewhere else he wouldn't have cared, but she couldn't now, not after she'd saved Kaoru, and also because if she did . . . it would be—at least partially—his fault. If he'd never listened to Fujita, never run away to Kyoto, even if he just hadn't attacked Kenshin tonight, this wouldn't have happened. Of course, it also wouldn't have happened if his father had just told him the truth from the beginning. He'd never seen him look so guilty, but if he felt that bad why hadn't he just said something earlier?

Vaguely he wondered what time it was.

"Kenji?" He grunted weakly in response.

"What . . . .what happened?"

Kenji scowled. Stupid Yahiko.

Seeing that he wasn't getting an answer, Yahiko opted for another question. "Why are you back?"

A furious thought struck Kenji. "Did you know?" he blurted.

" . . . know what?"

"About my dad—that he was . . ."

"What?"

"You know what I mean."

"No . . ."

Kenji's eyes flashed at him. "_Battousai_, Yahiko."

Yahiko choked; it was a clear enough answer.

"I found out too. That's why."

Awkward silence fell.

Kenji's gray face slowly lifted to meet the doctor's as the door creaked open a few minutes later. The surgeon was wiping his hands on an unsettlingly red rag and gave a wan smile. "I've done all I can. She's out of immediate danger, for now."

Kenji's tense shoulders drooped several inches and he felt the consternation seeping slowly, almost disbelievingly out of him. "She's alive?"

The doctor nodded kindly, and without asking for permission Kenji shot to his feet and shoved past him into the room. The door rattled as he pushed it shut behind him. He came to a stop and swallowed nauseously. He'd never thought he'd see the girl who had shot at him, spit in his face, and wrestled him to the floor before look so _frail_.

"Asuka . . ."

Her forehead knitted in pain and her eyes cracked open.

"You're already awake?" he asked in quiet shock. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but nothing came out.

Tensing uncomfortably Kenji sat stiffly down in the doctor's chair, his hands balled into fists and resting on his legs. "Just rest for now," he mumbled awkwardly.

He didn't remember falling asleep in that chair, but as he jolted awake later he immediately realized it hadn't been long since he'd done so. He rubbed a bloodshot eye and glanced at the candle next to him, which had barely diminished since the last time he'd looked at it. Some food had been left for the two of them, probably courtesy of Tsubame, and he took a few small, half-hearted bites before recognizing what had woken him in the first place: the hush of quiet voices outside the window. Carefully he moved toward the opening and peered down.

There were three of them, and Kenji instantly frowned, though not surprised; he'd expected as much. Yahiko had retrieved Kenshin and Kaoru. As soon as they'd entered the building he grabbed his sword and quickly pushed the window up. He glanced back at Asuka, who was staring at him blankly.

"Look," he said, only half-hoping she remembered this later, "I have to go now. My parents are here, and I can't stay—"

"No!" Her voice was small and hoarse.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine; they'll take good care of you."

She tried to sit up, reflexively grabbing her side at the sudden pain. "I almost killed your mother tonight, I don't want to see them either."

So she could form coherent sentences after all.

"You know you can't come, you're wounded."

"So are you," she argued softly, glancing at his chest.

"That's hardly the same. Just pretend you're asleep or something if you don't want to see them right now."

"Kenji!" she whispered in protest, her fingers feebly catching his sleeve, "are you going after Toru-san?"

"Yes."

"Then you _have_ to take me."

"Are you insane? You nearly died because of him, remember?"

"He caught me off guard, but I can take him. My wounds are . . . fine . . ." she mumbled as her eyes began to lose focus.

"Asuka!"

"What? Oh," she huffed indignantly, "well, how do you expect to find him by yourself? You've only seen him in passing twice, you have no idea where to look, you know absolutely nothing about him besides his name, hey—"

Kenji paused for a moment with one leg out the window to look back at her. She was right, after all, it was regrettable that he hadn't been able to get more information out of her before fleeing, but there was no use worrying about that now. Maybe he'd sneak back later to ask her about it, but at the moment he just had to get out of here. He shrugged.

"Sorry ookami-musume."

Her eyes narrowed in an obviously menacing threat.

"Himura, you _will_ take me with you," she hissed.

"Look," Kenji sighed, "apparently you don't understand this, but _less than an hour ago_ you almost_ died_. You're hardly ready to go anywhere."

"You can't do this without me."

"I'll come back if I have to."

She shook her head. "I'm going now."

Kenji frowned and reached up reflexively to scratch his head. She looked awful, with her hair still coated in blood, her eyes dull and her face white, like a half-dead . . . something, which he supposed she technically was, and she _definitely_ wasn't well enough to be leaving for anywhere, especially since wherever they ended up they'd probably be on the run from the police again. But at this point she would probably tackle him if he made another move toward leaving her behind. And unfortunately there was another factor weighing into his decision, the fact that despite how much he hated to admit it, she was right. He needed her help.

He groaned and dragged his hand slowly down his face. "_Fiiiine_."

With a weak but arrogantly triumphant smile Asuka pushed herself to her feet and stepped in front of Kenji through the window, failing to disguise the pain the movement was causing her as she slipped to the ground. Before she could wander off Kenji put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, then stepped forward and crouched down in front of her.

"Get on my back," he muttered miserably.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice still raspy.

"Just do it," he ground out. "You're injured."

An amused smile twisted Asuka's colorless lips. "You know, if I didn't know any better I'd guess you were actually worried about me," she teased.

"Whatever. I just don't have time to waste getting rid of a body—ow!"

Kenji was so busy trying to get a wad of his hair out of her fist that he didn't notice the figure glaring behind them with crossed arms and narrow eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Kenji whirled, Asuka moaned, and both swore when they saw the short figure staring them down.

"Go home, Shinya."

"No," he responded simply. "I'm coming with you. Either that or I'll just follow you, it's up to you. I'm not getting left behind this time."

"What a brat," Asuka said drunkenly.

"I learned from the best," Shinya smirked.

Kenji was too tired to respond to the barb. "This is going to be dangerous Shinya, I can't take you along."

"Who could we possibly run into that's any scarier than Fujita?" he said, smiling as Asuka snickered, "and besides, how do you plan to get there? I doubt you have any more money on you."

"And you do?"

"Yes. Otousan has plenty saved."

"You stole your father's money!"

"How do you think I followed you last time?"

"Shinya!"

The boy shrugged. "Hey, he's the one that was a pickpocket. That's karma for you."

The utter ridiculousness of the situation was making Kenji's head begin to hurt, so with a defeated sigh he trudged off, purposefully ignorant of whether the boy followed or not.

"Whatever, but I'm not explaining this to your parents."


	15. Convalescence

True, Scarred Sword Heart, I guess I am pushing it with Kenji's stupidity—though Kenshin did bring Yahiko along on some pretty dangerous little escapades too.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews! It's always great to hear what I'm doing right or wrong from someone else, it's the only way I'll get any better.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin isn't mine.

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Fifteen: Convalescence  
**

"Come on, stop being such a baby!"

"I'm _not _being a baby! Get that away from my head!"

"If you weren't so conspicuous we wouldn't be in this mess—"

"We wouldn't be in this mess if _you_ hadn't insisted that we come back."

"We can get information here! I don't see what the big deal is, it's just your hair . . ."

"Ookami . . ."

Kenji instinctively stiffened as the fusama behind him snapped open, and a small shiver ran up his spine at the ireful aura hovering over the figure that stepped in.

"No!" was the sharp reprimand—but near constant repetition had greatly diminished the force of the command. Kenji turned and smiled sheepishly.

"Hey . . ."

"Don't _smile!_ I already told you, no more plotting! It isn't good for her health!"

"P-plotting? But Megumi-san, we weren't . . . uh . . ." he chuckled nervously as her glare intensified, and began inching toward the door.

"I'll just be going—"

Megumi had already pushed him out and closed the door behind him.

"That fool," he heard her mutter, and Asuka snickered.

Kenji had done some pretty stupid things in his short life, but the last few days seemed to top it all. Besides being tricked into attacking his own father by a complete stranger in a bar, he had shortly after dragged a near-fatally wounded woman on a trip spanning the greater part of Japan just hours after she'd nearly died. At the beginning he'd become convinced that if he heard her whine one more time about what he was putting her through and how hard this was on her—especially since _she_ was the one that insisted—he might skewer his own vital organs. He'd really hoped a good doctor was available when they got wherever they were going . . . and had some heavy sedatives.

To top it off, he hadn't taken into account the fact that finding Toru under the present circumstances was a near impossibility. Asuka was brimming with ideas of where he could be, but they had to move slowly, and that coupled with their small group's clear conspicuousness made it unlikely that Toru would be foolish enough to be caught. They'd had to settle on remaining unseen, using most of their funds on traveling and doctors and the rest on keeping said doctors' mouths shut, because there were plenty of people searching for them.

It hadn't taken long for some of those people to catch up.

It was when they entered Kyoto again that Kenji's naive assumption that they'd be able to avoid everyone associated with his parents fell apart. He'd been arguing with Asuka about something in the carriage they'd hitched a ride on when Shinya, who had been smart enough to keep out of their newest quarrel and was perched outside alongside the driver, rapped sharply on the window. Kenji ducked instinctively as he realized the boy was pointing out the fact that they were approaching the Aoiya. He watched warily as they passed, but there was no one around . . . until that last moment when the inn's front door flew open and a pair of scalding eyes met his.

When relating the story years later he would insist that his heart had actually stopped.

"Let me out! Let me out!"

He heard the horse whiny in fear, it should after all, it had just become _his_ prey. Kenji threw the door open and was scrambling for the exit when the carriage jolted to a halt that threw Asuka into him.

"Kenji, what are you—"

"It's Fujita!" he'd hissed in dread. He was launched backwards as she hurled him out of the way and disappeared through the squeaking door. Unfortunately for Kenji, he didn't have time to follow her before the opposite door was wrenched open, rocking the carriage, and a clawlike fist seized him and dragged him into the dirt. Shinya was already dangling by his gi from the other hand.

"Nice to see you again, boys."

"Hey Fujita," both had mumbled drearily.

"Get inside. Now."

If Kenji had learned anything from Fujita it was that protesting was useless, particularly when the man was in such a foul mood, so he and Shinya merely sighed as they were dragged and tossed inside. And that's how they'd ended up back at the Aoiya.

Five blank faces had met theirs as they entered, plus a sixth one that just looked bored (belonging to Aoshi). Kenji blinked. What were they all wearing . . . were those kunai?

Misao's face had drained of color. "Fujita . . ." she managed in a menacing singsong voice, "what are they doing here?"

There was a lot of screaming after that . . . about ninjas, Asuka, Battousai, and the like. After being demon bird kicked in the face Kenji had begrudgingly explained what had happened, a heavily abridged version, of course. In his account he and Kenshin had been 'discussing,' and Asuka had really sacrificed her life to save Kaoru, poor girl. Kenji and Shinya were here to inform Fujita, then they were headed back to Tokyo. The brooding officer had stalked out after that. Kenji was surprised he hadn't gone for the jugular.

Of course, that made it slightly inconvenient when Asuka snuck in through a window in the middle of the night and got caught. "Asuka! You're alive!" Kenji had exclaimed, an act that _may_ have convinced Omasu's infant daughter, but Misao was already too busy writing letters to notice. One went to Megumi, because Asuka still needed medical attention (and after treating people like Kenshin sword wounds had become the fox's specialty); the other went to Hokkaido, where Fujita had supposedly returned. That one presented a problem, but it didn't take much to prevent him from finding out, just a little tampering with Misao's mail.

So Megumi had shown up, scolded him effusively for being so reckless with an injured person, and now all that remained was waiting for Asuka to heal and wondering how much longer they could keep this act up. Because the last thing any of them wanted was to actually go back to Tokyo. Even if they had no leads on Toru and were forced to merely wander Japan aimlessly, it didn't matter. For now the most important thing was getting away from that city, from the atrocities of that night . . . figuring out what to do next was secondary.

They hadn't once talked about it. Thanking Asuka would have been awkward considering their usual brawls, as would have been getting angry about her association with Toru after what had happened—so embarrassed silence had prevailed at the beginning of the journey. Shinya had known better than to ask about the taboo scene at the dojo, and he'd decided to forget it when the relationship of his two companions had returned to being just as antagonistic (though less violent) as it had been previously. It was easier for all of them to pretend it had never happened and focus on a plan to go after Toru.

Shinya _had_ asked, once, why exactly they were still planning on going after him together, even after she was better. The two had looked at each other blankly.

"I need her information," he'd huffed.

"And I need your money," she'd sighed.

Shinya's veiled question was right, it would have been easier for Kenji if he were doing this alone, and they all knew it, but Asuka was too stubborn and Shinya too abashed to say anything directly. Surprisingly, Kenji had found he didn't mind. Shinya, the determined brat, would be safer with them than wandering after them by himself. And he'd made the secret vow that he wouldn't abandon Asuka as he'd been washing her blood from her hair.

"Kenji-kun?"

Kenji perked up, unaware that he'd dozed off.

"Hm?"

Megumi wagged a finger at him. "You can go back in, but behave yourself! All right?" Kenji rolled his eyes and sighed in mock severity as he stood; Megumi smiled at him.

"You three be careful, all right?"

"Careful? Megumi-san, what are you—"

She raised an eyebrow at him; he sighed again. "Right."

"What did she say?" he asked as he reentered Asuka's room. The girl was examining her katana.

"She's headed back to Aizu soon," she said, her gaze still concentrated on her blade, "she said I'll be fine from now on, as long as I 'take it easy'." She sniggered. "As if that will happen."

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes. We can't risk staying here any longer. Misao is going to figure out Fujita never got her letter."

"Tonight, then?"

"Sure."

"I'll tell Shinya. Make sure you're ready."

"Kenji, you should really—"

"_No_, Asuka."

A couple hours after midnight Kenji met Shinya in the hallway and the two slipped to Asuka. If not for her they could have just pretended to go to Tokyo and sneaking out wouldn't have been required, but Misao never would have let her just leave with them, she was technically still wanted. The only reason she hadn't been dragged to the police station yet was because Megumi had firmly prohibited it, and Kenji supposed they would have felt a little guilty after what she'd done for Kaoru.

Asuka was seated under the window waiting.

"Well, where to next?" Kenji drawled, only half-expecting a real answer.

"Osaka," she responded simply. "I got a tip that he was seen there."

Kenji scowled. "I've been trying for days, and I haven't—"

"I know the system."

"B-but . . ." he stuttered, stepping forward, "you've been in bed this whole time! How did you . . ."

She looked up as he moved into the moonlight and smiled at him in surprise.

"What?" he snapped.

"You dyed your hair."

Shinya stifled a laugh as the other boy scowled and started muttering.

"You didn't have to point it out . . ."


	16. The Wrong Footprints

hey, thanks for all of those reviews on the last chapter! you guys are great.

disclaimer: i don't own rurouni kenshin

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Sixteen: The Wrong Footprints**

If he'd been asked a month ago where he would be at this very moment, the last thing Shinya would have guessed would be holed up in an Osaka inn in the middle of the night plotting some sort of raid on a bar to find a guy named Toru. Things had definitely taken an abnormal turn since they'd escaped from Kyoto. Kenji and Asuka were almost freakishly serious about this, and _good_ at it too, you'd almost think they'd been raised as spies they way they were taking it on. They'd only arrived this morning and already the two were planning captures and gathering weapons and as soon as the sun had fallen they'd be on the hunt. He didn't know what the big deal was, it was just some stranger that had hurt Asuka, but she was fine now . . . or he'd betrayed her, or . . . something. Whatever.

In any case, Shinya was starting to get bored. Osaka might have been fun if he hadn't been stuck following the revenge twins everywhere, but they hadn't given him even a moment to rest. He'd originally come along because it sounded interesting, he was curious, he didn't want Kenji leaving him out of the adventure . . . but he didn't even really know why they were chasing this guy and Kenji and Asuka's stony silence on the subject made asking an impossibility. He was tired of awkwardly tagging along and not really doing anything—and he missed his mother's cooking.

"What's taking her so long?" he moaned, slipping down in his chair.

Kenji responded with a tired shrug, pausing to examine his new hair color in the reflection from his recently polished katana.

"Hey Asuka?"

"What?" her muffled voice sounded from the other side of the fusama separating them.

"Why are we going to another bar?"

"To gather information." Kenji could feel her glaring at him through the paper door as he sighed heavily. "What do you suggest, announcing to the city that we're here and waiting for him to attack us? We could always find him that way."

"No, no," he exaggerated, "we'll do it _your_ way."

"Good," she replied with feigned sweetness. "And remember Shinya, you keep watch outside; Kenji and I will go in."

"Why can't I help?"

"Because we'll obviously stick out if we bring a child with us." Kenji heard the fusama slide open behind him and glanced at Shinya in anticipation of his rebuttal, but they boy was just blinking vapidly. Curious, Kenji angled his sword so it caught her image, but . . . strange, he couldn't seem to get it right. All he could see was his own face and some girl in the other room, but where was . . .

The picture on his sword put her hands on her hips and opened its mouth. Asuka's voice came out.

"What are you doing?"

Kenji reared back so hard that his chair lost its balance and he landed on the floor, his head at her feet. His katana clattered to the ground a few feet away.

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?" Asuka's head rolled down to meet his slowly, ominously. Her face was expressionless, but her narrow eyes sparked with indignation.

"Pardon?"

"Uh . . ."

"I said _pardon_, Kenji? What is it?"

He gulped and began slowly shaking his head. "Nope. It's nothing." He realized he was still staring at the rather feminine kimono and quickly sat up . . . then something clicked and his mouth fell open.

"Hey, hold on!" he exclaimed, turning. "Just what sort of 'reconnaissance' are you planning on?"

She smirked. "You'll see."

"But why—"

"Now we've got to do this without seeming suspicious," she interrupted, "so just follow my lead."

"Follow _your_ lead?" he muttered through his teeth, "what kind of a plan is that?"

But she'd passed; her back was to him. "You remember how I described Toru, right Shinya? Good, and remember to signal us immediately if you see him."

"Hey . . ." Kenji cut in, but Asuka was frowning at Shinya.

"What?"

The boy snickered. "You actually look like a girl."

She scowled and turned on her heel, stalking out. Kenji looked to Shinya and pointed after her.

"What is she . . . ?"

The boy shrugged.

And so shortly after the three of them were approaching a broken down little excuse for a tavern, all thanks to Asuka's "intelligence gathering skills," as she insisted on calling them. Both Shinya and Kenji raised eyebrows as she pointed. The decaying building definitely passed the "am I scary enough to hide a murderer?" test, it had the eerie and dangerous look down.

"Home sweet home, huh?"

Asuka ignored Shinya and slipped across the street, silent and difficult to see, which was impressive considering that outfit. Kenji followed and Shinya carelessly tramped after the two. When he caught up they were pressed against the wall, and Asuka peeked carefully through the window.

"He's not here now . . . but let's go."

Kenji began to question the wisdom in this idea as Shinya stayed behind to watch with nothing but a shinai strapped across his back . . . but then again, fearless recklessness did run in that family.

Asuka was already inside and a grumbling Kenji turned to follow, but he stopped cold and gawked as at least four drunks instantly recognized her and called her name, waving her over. Then he realized in stupefying horror what she was doing. She was _flirting_ with them.

He ground his teeth together. It was working, too. He didn't see _how_, but she seemed to be pilfering everything she wanted out of the fools. He walked in, glaring; she giggled at something one of the red-faced men stuttered.

_Ridiculous_.

Before he could awkwardly interrupt and demand to know what she thought she was doing, however, something had latched onto his arm. He saw Asuka smirking as he blushed and the girl dangling at his side started dragging him away. "I'll kill you for this," he mouthed across the room; she waved with a smile.

When she finally stumbled over to him a good deal of time later, Kenji was trying to pry his arm from the grasp of one girl and get his gi back from another, while fighting off a third's repeated attempts to intoxicate him. He sighed in relief as Asuka caught herself on the table and laid her head on it with a moan, causing the others, staring disdainfully, to scatter.

"Um . . . they didn't know anything."

"Uh huh."

Kenji poked the side of Asuka's head; it lolled to the side but she didn't react.

"Are you drunk?"

"I . . . maybe . . ." she murmured, "but I've got a le-(hic)-ead . . . he's been staying here."

Kenji's eyes bulged. He hadn't quite expected anything to actually come from this, if her topic of conversation had been anything like his, anyway. "What? Where!"

She pointed, though he couldn't quite tell where with the way her hand was weaving around.

"Upstairs."

Another surprise. "He's _here?_" Kenji checked to make sure his katana was still at his side (though no one here had seemed to care about it, oddly enough) and steadied Asuka in her chair. "All right, you stay there, I'll take care of this." She looked coherently at him for the first time since she'd tripped over.

"Excuse me?"

"I said stay here. You can't do this right now, you aren't even armed."

"I'll be fine!"

"I think you've had a little too much to drink . . ."

She glared at him and stood, surprisingly balanced. "I didn't come all this way to pass out downstairs while you go take out Toru," she whispered angrily. "We're both going." And she grabbed him by the hair. The girls Kenji had been with until a few moments ago frowned as he was dragged upstairs; he shrugged as if regretful and snatched his gi back.

The second floor was in obvious disuse, just an attic and a few adjacent rooms adorned with cobwebs. After brushing off a spider or two he'd walked into upon ascending Kenji noticed that Asuka had already stopped dead in the center of the floor, her shoulders sagging. One arm was limp at her side, the other absently fingering the scar under her gi. He noticed her take a deep but silent breath, as if preparing herself, and pull a pistol out of her obi. He rolled his eyes. She would.

When she glanced back at him her face was cold, her jaw tight, but she was swaying slightly.

"Let's go."

Kenji glanced at the floor as they moved in, and a wave of mixed exhilaration and apprehension poured through him. He nudged Asuka and pointed down. The dusty floor was marred with footprints.

_He's here._

Most of the doors were open, giving them an easy view in, but one fusama was shut tight. It was here Asuka had been staring the whole time. "There," she mouthed angrily, pointing. He nodded with a frown, and was moving forward when they both suddenly stiffened and gulped.

"Is that . . .snoring?"

"Shh!"

"It _is_ him!" Kenji whispered, fingers already twitching around his sword's hilt. Asuka harshly shushed him again, then slowly began to wrap her fingers around the edge of the fusama from behind which the restful sound issued.

The fusama snapped open and Asuka moved in. Kenji's katana sunk, along with his hopes, and he wondered if Asuka had noticed that the sleeping figure was far too tall and large to be their target.

_Bam!_ . . . apparently not.

Those left downstairs screamed and the floor shook as they fled in mass panic, unaware where the noise had come from. Fortunately Asuka had only fired a warning shot, and they both backed up as the specter-like figure glaring at them slowly rose. Kenji started explaining that it wasn't Toru, and she forgot to get angry at him for not saying so sooner, she only pointed her gun menacingly.

"Who are you brats?"

Instead her wrath was directed at the tall, gruff looking middle-aged man casually addressing them, apparently unfazed by the pistol poised to fire through his head. His eyes were sunken with the haze of exhaustion, his brown hair unkempt and tangled, and it would have probably been easier to just burn his clothing instead of attempting to clean and mend it. He looked like he was on the run, and he smelled like he could use a bath.

It really wasn't him.

"Who are _you_," Asuka snarled, "and where's Toru?"

"Toru?" he asked with a questioning yawn.

"Yes, Toru!" she spouted, shoving her gun forward so it hovered directly in front of his face. He glared spitefully at her.

"Why you little—"

"TELL ME!" she shrieked desperately, breathing more heavily than she should have been considering they were just standing there.

Kenji grimaced at the distressed and furious look on her face. She'd really expected him to be here. And though they were both hungry for revenge, he was just after a stranger he'd seen in passing once or twice. She was hunting a companion, someone she'd trusted. For the first time Kenji realized they may have been friends, or more . . . and that could only serve to augment her confusion and anger. He almost pitied this uninvolved man who would bear the brunt of her frustration, not to mention intoxication.

"Look kid," said man protested, shoving her weapon aside, "I've been here for a while now, and there's been no 'Toru' here. Screaming at me isn't going to bring your little boyfriend back."

"Boyfriend!" she yelped, jabbing her weapon closer yet again, "how dare you!" Kenji cringed.

The man sighed. "Would you just go away? He isn't here."

"Then where is he?"

"Seriously? I just said—ah forget it." He brushed his disheveled hair out of his face and started cracking his knuckles. "I don't want to do this the hard way, but you're _really_ annoying." Before she could protest he'd snatched the gun right out of her grasp . . . and snapped it in half.

"Fine, have it your way. Kenji!"

"Huh?" He was still staring at the shattered gun remains.

"Give me your katana."

Kenji chuckled nervously. "Sorry about this," he said awkwardly, "she's a little drunk."

"Am not! Give me your sword!"

"Asuka, he's not even armed."

"It's all right, I don't need to be."

Asuka glowered. "Don't flatter yourself." She grabbed Kenji's katana.

The stranger ducked to the side just in time, gaping. "What are you doing? I was kidding you crazy—"

"Shut up!"

"Fine!"

They were both surprised that the man wasn't just all talk. At least, he hadn't been stabbed yet, though he hadn't hit Asuka either. She dropped to the floor to avoid his fist and swung the katana toward his leg, but he pinned it to the floor with his foot. She tugged impatiently on the hilt, but it didn't budge.

"Done yet?"

"NO!"

"I think you are," he said, kicking Kenji's sword away. "I'm leaving." He headed for the door muttering something vulgar, until Asuka leapt from behind and brought him easily down with a resounding crash.

"What the—"

"You're going to tell me what you know _now_," she whispered menacingly. The man's response was emphatic to say the least, and Kenji was suddenly glad they'd left Shinya outside. And they both just stared stubbornly like that . . . neither moving, until the pounding of feet outside turned both of their heads.

"Not again . . ." the man muttered dryly.

"The police?" dropped from her lips.

"Yeah, so get off!"

He head shot back around, her eyes bright and wide. "No!"

"The cops are _here_, you idiot!"

Her fingers clutched the front of his dirty jacket. "Where is he?"

"I _don't know!_ Now get off already!" He seemed more than a little disconcerted that this young woman had him pinned to the floor, but Kenji pulled her off before he could seriously retaliate.

"Asuka, I really don't think he knows . . ."

"Let me go!"

"Thanks kid," he murmured at Kenji as he stood, brushing himself off.

"What are you going to do? They'll be in any second—"

"I'm going to get out."

"But how—"

Kenji's jaw dropped as he recklessly punched the wall (Asuka just sighed and muttered "show off"). He was gone, but—then . . . so was the wall, and the two were left staring out the gaping hole where he'd just been.

"Ow!"

Kenji glanced down to see him clawing at Shinya, who'd instantly attached himself to his head.

"That's not him, Shinya," he called from above.

"Oh. Sorry."

Asuka and Kenji leaped down just as the attic door burst open, and the three sprinted back toward their inn, unaware of their unintentional rescuer watching from the corner of a side street. He shook his head as they flew past, watching them recede with a "hmm . . ."

He'd never experienced such acute deja vu as when those two had burst in, but maybe it was just the effect of being back in Japan after so long abroad. But still . . .

With a sigh he shrugged it off, putting his hands up behind his head and trudging to some new hiding place, grinning to himself as the few stragglers left on the street stared blankly at him after noticing the sign on his back. Running from the police, avoiding katanas, that symbol being recognized once again . . .

He was back in Japan, all right.


	17. Old Friend

Hey reviewers! Thanks **J Luc Pitard** for your insight, I don't get advice as often as I'd like. And **Blunablue, omasuoniwabanshi, **and **Scarred Sword Heart**, you guys rock for being so consistent with your reviews. Thanks.

And I know there are answers you all want answered, but sorry, they aren't in this chapter. They'll get here eventually though, please be patient with me.

Disclaimer: I still don't own it.

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Seventeen: Old Friend**

The night before had left Kenji baffled and frustratingly helpless and Asuka a disheveled drunken mess. They'd only dragged themselves and Shinya back to the inn because they didn't know what else to do. Kenji had spent hours hunched over their plans by candlelight, wracking his brain for some kind of new strategy, but the lack of sleep was making the mental faculties he had left rapidly deteriorate. But he couldn't have slept even if he'd tried, not with that incessant periodic thud coming through the wall.

A little while after dawn he trudged laboriously into Asuka's room and saw that she hadn't rested either: her efforts to reconcile herself with Toru's absence had left a forehead-shaped dent in the wall. Now she was spread-eagled on the floor, staring with bloodshot eyes at the ceiling and occasionally jabbing the floor with a leftover chopstick.

"I was wrong," she droned pathetically. He sighed.

" . . . forget it."

He sprawled out a few feet away to stare up with her, and they just laid like that, silent and exhausted.

"So what now?"

Asuka's chopstick snapped. "You tell me."

"Well . . . we could go back to Kyoto. That's where you two spent most of your time, isn't it?"

"That's no good. Fujita's probably there by now. If Toru knows he won't risk it."

"We could keep looking around here."

"He isn't here."

"How do you know?"

She sluggishly pulled herself into a sitting position, holding her head with one hand. "Those guys wouldn't have given me a false lead unless he'd told them to. He's sending us on a hopeless chase on purpose; he isn't going to let us catch him."

"You mean he _planned_ all of this?" Kenji demanded irately.

"Yeah," she groaned, "and by now he probably knows I'm alive. Stupid, stupid . . ."

"Then I'll beat the truth out of them," Kenji snarled.

She shook her head listlessly. "It's not that easy. Even if they did know where he really is, they'd never tell with how much he's probably paying them. And I'm sure he threw in a few threats against their families for good measure."

She could see him swelling with indignation. "But—"

"Why else would everything we've done lead to nothing, Kenji?"

"No!"

He punched the wall, and Asuka's eyes rolled around to stare scornfully.

"Hoping it would explode?"

"Shut up."

* * *

The third member of their party had been left considerably less upset by the occurrences of the previous evening. Morning saw him cheerfully greeting a nearly comatose Kenji, who was burning the last of his brain cells at that point, and strolling out of the inn and whistling, off in search of some breakfast. No matter how he looked at it there was nothing left for them to do here. Maybe now everything would go back to normal, though he supposed their lives since they'd left Tokyo couldn't exactly be classified that way.

He walked into the nearest open restaurant he could find, ordered as much as he thought he could stuff himself with and set to work devouring the feast, still humming to himself.

"Mm . . ." was how the sigh next to him began, "that smells delicious."

Shinya looked up from his bowl and wiped at his mouth with the back of one hand, staring curiously at the slumped figure.

"You . . . want some?"

"Funny, kid."

"Really. I can't eat it all. I don't think Asuka and Kenji have much of an appetite this morning anyway," he added as an afterthought.

The head slowly raised, and Shinya felt something familiar in the pink scratch spanning the forehead.

"It's you!" they exclaimed at the same time, but Shinya was the only one smiling.

"Gimme that," the man grumbled, snatching a bowl. "It's the least you can do after attacking my face like that last night."

Shinya didn't bother apologizing, but jumped up in his chair, meal forgotten. His neighbor leaned back in uncomfortable surprise.

"How did you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

Shinya lifted his fists and enthusiastically punched the air, complete with explosive sound effects. "Blow that hole in the wall last night. That was crazy!"

His companion had a disbelieving, reminiscent smile. "Oh, that?" he laughed, "it was nothing. I guess I did get a little carried away, though."

"Can you show me?" Shinya demanded, palms on the table and leaning forward.

"I don't know kid, I almost died learning that technique. You really think you can handle it?"

Shinya folded his arms and gave a patronizing laugh. "Handle it? Please."

* * *

The scene at the inn proved to be less than favorable when Shinya returned from breakfast with no food and a man Asuka had recently tried to kill in tow. It didn't help when he asked about her hangover.

"No."

"But Asuka—"

"No, no, no! We are not harboring a fugitive, Shinya!"

"You mean another one," Kenji muttered to himself from where he sat looking on, arms folded and feet on the table. "What? I didn't say anything," he said with a shrug at her inflamed gaze. He for one wouldn't particularly mind if the man came along; they could always use help and this guy was strong. But he was tired and irritated, so he'd wait until Asuka's aggravation levels were low enough for his interjection to cause the smallest possible explosion of disagreement.

"Maybe he can help us!"

"Yeah, help us get caught."

"You know Shinya," Kenji added casually, "usually kids your age bring home stray dogs.

"This guy's about as useful as one," Asuka grumbled.

"Hey, I saved you last night . . . mm . . ." his face crumpled in concentration; he seemed to be searching for a label that would adequately convey his adverse opinion of her.

"Ookami-musume," Kenji offered, returning Asuka's immediate glare.

"Exactly!"

Asuka was glowering and visibly tensed. "He's definitely leaving."

"But—"

"We don't even know who he is. We can't trust him."

"The name's Sano."

"That doesn't help!"

Shinya's forehead had wrinkled in concentration. "Sano?" he repeated musingly. "Sano . . . I think Kaoru-sensei mentioned someone with that name once. . ." Then his arms dropped and he cocked his head to the side. The new guy sure looked pale all of a sudden . . .

"Uh, are you all right? You don't look so good . . ."

The man was white and scrambling for words.

_Kaoru-sensei? _That _Kaoru-sensei?_ He'd known from the beginning that there was something about these kids, but the haze of eighteen years away had left him still a little unsure. The three of them were staring at him uncertainly. Another trio had looked at him that way once.

"Kamiya Kaoru?" he sputtered, and he noticed that the older boy's eyes shot open, eyes very like hers.

"Well, it's actually Himura now, but yeah, I guess," Shinya said, "do you really know her?"

"_Himura Kaoru!_" he exclaimed, remembering the seventeen-year-old girl that used to repeat that name dreamily. "You've got to be kidding me—what's your name again?"

"Kenji," he answered hesitantly.

_Kenji? KENji? Great choice there, guys._

"Kenji!" he yelled, wrapping his arm around the boy's neck and rubbing his head. "I can't believe they never told me!" He hardly knew whether to laugh or let his jaw go slack with shock. A small part of him had always doubted that Kenshin would go through with it, but they'd been busy since he'd been gone, that was for sure. And they sure hadn't waited very long, if Kenji was as old as he looked.

Kenji had shoved him off and backed away, and he sensed the initial acceptance he'd felt from the boy rapidly fading. But there was time for explanations later, he had to find out about the other two. He sat back down and turned to Asuka . . . never mind, he didn't want to know. But what about Shinya?

Confused and a little bit irritated, Shinya had placed his hands on his hips and frowned; as he set eyes on him it clicked. A mocking smirk crossed his memory and his chair skidded backward. He was pointing at Shinya in elated disbelief.

"_Yahiko!_"

But this kid was way too young. Yahiko had been his age when he'd left, and that had been quite a while . . . and besides, that hair wasn't nearly spiky enough.

The boy had dropped his shinai. "You know my _dad_ too?" he spouted enthusiastically.

The other fell out of his chair.

"Y-you don't mean . . . you're actually—"

"Myojin Shinya," he answered proudly. "Yahiko's my father."

"F-f-_father?_ No way," he sniggered. Not the brat too . . .

"Wait," he asked with a sudden realization, pulling himself up, "who's your mom? No no, let me guess, Tsu—" he snorted, "not Tsubame . . ."

The chuckle turned into a disruptive guffaw as Shinya's excited expression dropped to make room for one of surprise.

"Who _are_ you?"

"Like I said, the name's Sano, kid," he laughed, "your parents and I go _way_ back."

"Sano . . ." Shinya said again, and his eyes slowly widened as he caught sight of the man's back. A casual comment his father had made about the same symbol on his own gi was coming back . . .

"Wait, you're Sanosuke!"

Sano grinned. "So that punk bothered mentioning me, huh?" he asked in unmasked delight. "I bet they told you about all of our adventures saving Japan, right?"

Shinya's face was blank, as was Kenji's. "Your . . . what?"

"You mean, he didn't . . . the Oniwabanshu, or Saitou," Shinya was shaking his head, "Shishio or Enishi or any of it? Then what _did_ he tell you?"

"That you were some compulsive gambler he used to know. He has the same thing on his back."

Sano almost forgot the initial insult. "He does?"

"Yeah . . . he said you were probably dead somewhere and if he didn't wear it no one would remember you." He glanced up and instantly clambered backward. "Uh, Sanosuke-san? Are you all—"

"YAHIKO! I'll _kill_ him!"

* * *

Despite the heavy exhaustion tearing at his body, sleep didn't come easily to Kenji that night. Shinya was snoring softly in his disheveled bedding and Sano was lying quietly on his side a few feet away, but Kenji couldn't manage to keep his eyes shut for more than a few seconds at a time. Maybe it was his continuing frustration over Toru, or confusion over their group's new arrival. But he suspected that a large part of it had to do with the increased wariness of cops last night's incident and the man called Sanosuke meant for them.

The lump that represented Sano rolled over when Kenji moaned and smacked the floor impatiently. He sighed, but with a smile.

"Still can't sleep?"

"I'm not tired. Why are you awake?"

"If I let my guard down that girl might maim me in my sleep." Kenji had to admit that he had a point.

"You wouldn't happen to know a way out of here where we can avoid the police, would you?"

"So they're after you too? Looks like we're stuck. Too bad Kenshin isn't here."

Kenji's head turned to face Sano's in disbelieving annoyance. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You know, it just wouldn't be the first time he's gotten someone out of trouble with the law." Kenji was still staring at him doubtfully, beginning to wonder if Asuka was right and it was wrong to trust this guy after all.

"What are you talking about?" he asked bluntly, and Sanosuke's eyes turned quickly to his, surprised and inquisitive.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Know _what_—kid, you've got to be kidding me!" And he bolted up, jabbering away about his life as a nineteen-year-old and brimming with stories while Kenji looked on with an arched eyebrow.

It almost seemed too unbelievable to be blatant lies, and Sanosuke talked about them as if he really did know them. But Megumi making opium? More like this guy had been taking opium. He was right about Yahiko being a pickpocket, Kenji already knew that, but as if the cops in Tokyo would let Sano off for attacking a government official just because they owed Kenshin. His father wouldn't even have anything to do with this filthy law-breaking maniac.

"Then why didn't he ever talk about any of this?" Kenji asked when he was finished, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

"Well if you haven't figured it out yet, your father's humble to a fault. He wouldn't gloat about it if you paid him."

Oh, so he was _humble._ How convenient.

"All right, now it's your turn to explain. Because unless Kenshin's changed a _lot_ he wouldn't be letting his son run around bars in Osaka with just a couple other kids."

Well, he did have that much right, and Kenji didn't see the harm in telling him just a little. He'd probably forget the conversation once the drugs wore off, anyway.

"We ran away."

"You idiot."

"What?"

Sanosuke snorted. "Well, I guess it figures. Can't Kenshin ever catch a break?"

"You're not surprised?"

"Nah, your father ran off when he was even younger than you. Must be weird for him to see you do the same stupid stuff though."

With a disapproving frown Kenji rolled over and snapped his eyes shut, determined now for the onset on unconsciousness. What did _he_ know? They were definitely dumping this guy as soon as they got the chance. Now Kenji was sure he was out of his mind.


	18. Leave

Hey everybody, here's the next chapter. thanks reviewers, as always.

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Eighteen: Leave  
**

"Ooh, get one of these." Kenji's eyes dropped as Sanosuke plopped a watermelon into his hands. He glanced with dull eyes at the fruit, then up at the man that had chosen it. But his companion had already moved on. Kenji's face wrinkled in baffled disgust.

"Why are you still here?"

"Well someone has to help you shop." He nodded down the street. "Shinya and your girlfriend are lagging behind." Sano trailed off as he caught sight of Kenji's caustic stare and rolled his eyes. _All right already, I'll drop the girlfriend jokes. _He'd been incessantly teasing the boy ever since he'd accidentally found Asuka pinned under him on the floor the other day, even though both vehemently insisted they'd only been fighting. And with the way they'd interacted since then he was beginning to believe it.

"So . . ." Sanosuke's voice meandered on a bit later, though he was careful to avoid eye contact, "who is she then? I get you and Shinya, but how did she get involved?"

"She was trying to assassinate Battousai," he responded curtly.

Sanosuke lurched a little, fully turning to face Kenji. "And you're all right with that?" And suddenly the sneering whelp was staring at him with a new look he couldn't quite classify. Was it just anger? Shock? Nausea maybe?

"You _know?_"

"Know what?"

"That my father's Battousai!" Sano stared blankly back, then the corner of his lip curled into a nervous smile.

". . . Doesn't everybody?"

With an insulted glare Kenji plowed ahead, muttering, "see, even _he_ doesn't think it's wrong for me to know."

_Kenshin didn't even tell him THAT?_ There was a lot of explaining to be done once he got these kids back to Tokyo.

"Is that why you left?"

"Shut up. It has nothing to do with you."

"So you found out by accident, right?" He shook his head with a sigh. "That idiot, he hasn't changed at all. I should have known."

"Just leave me alone. You don't know what you're talking about."

Sanosuke glanced at him sadly, unconsciously allowing himself to fall slightly behind.

"It's just . . . that's not it," Kenji said more quietly but just as antagonistically, "it's not that simple."

"Toru, right?" Kenji didn't respond, but Sano saw him twitch in vexation. "Shinya told me about him," he continued bluntly, "what he knew, anyway, which wasn't much. I bet he went after Kaoru."

Kenji thrust his arms in the air in exasperation and groaned. "Who _are_ you? Cut it out already!"

"So yes, then."

"Go away!"

"You know," Sanosuke continued, matching the boy's once again increased pace, "there's no way you're going to catch him just chasing him all over the country. You've got to go home."

"What good would that do?"

"That's where his target is."

Kenji's feet ground to a halt; Sanosuke followed suit and smiled at the sudden sickened look on the other's face.

"He's sure to show up there eventually," he added, "and just waiting will be easier than running all over after fake clues. Besides, that way you can train and get ready for him."

Kenji stepped forward again. "We can't do that."

"Are you seriously that mad at him? Shinya didn't know either, right? And he doesn't seem to mind." Both glanced backward. Shinya had just collapsed in the road melodramatically, apparently overpowered by an invisible sparring partner. Asuka stepped over him in the middle of his dying monologue.

"Yeah, well it's not his father."

"But his father was involved."

"Shut up."

Sano rolled his eyes and ignored his compulsion to strangle the kid. "Would you at least hear his side? All you even know is that he was Battousai, right?"

"Well when you're finding out from old government documents you don't get a lot of personal details," he responded acridly.

"So let him explain it."

Somehow Kenji managed to keep a fixed glare on Sanosuke without tripping.

"Look, I'm not asking you to totally forgive him." Kenji paused, his intense stare dimming.

"You're not?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be furious too. But you should at least hear about it from him. And it's stupid to give up on your best chance of catching this guy just because you're bitter."

Kenji halted again, but this time Sano kept going. The Himura sighed hopelessly, running a hand through his hair.

On the one hand, there was Toru. This guy was right, they had almost no hope of catching him this way, especially after what Asuka had said. But Tokyo also meant his parents. If it was just Kaoru he could go, he would probably endure a sound beating but after that things would be fine. But how could he even look his father in the eye after they'd fought like that? How could he go there without forgiving him, because he wasn't about to do that either. He was still angry and confused and regretful, and returning to the stem of all that emotion wasn't going to help. But Toru had tried to kill Kaoru, and he nearly _had_ killed the girl that saved her.

So which was more important? Get revenge on Toru, or avoid his father?

* * *

The impossibility of the decision led to a rather illogical conclusion: he was going to consult Asuka, or gauge her reaction to the idea, anyway.

"How long are you going to stand there staring stupidly at me?"

"Huh?"

Kenji jumped as he responded, struggling to focus. He hadn't realized he'd been staring so blatantly; he was just trying to decide how to approach the subject.

"Hey Asuka?"

"Yes Kenji?" she groaned.

He had no words to deter her imminent wrath. "Uh . . ."

"If you've got nothing to say I'm leaving." He glared and plunged.

"Do you think Toru went back to Tokyo?"

She turned appraising eyes on him and frowned irritably. "Why?"

"Sanosuke said­—"

"Oh, you're listening to _him_ now? Great, well let me know what the two of you come up with."

"Asuka." Silent and clearly drained she ignored him, abandoned her meal, and headed for her own room.

"If we go back, what will you do?"

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unchanging; then with a blasé shrug she turned away.

"Nothing."

"Then you're all right with­—"

"I don't care."

". . . You're sure? I didn't think—"

"I said I don't care Kenji. Do what you want. Have fun."

_Have fun?_

"You're not coming?"

She sighed and rested her head on the door frame. "I'm not obligated to." He didn't say anything at first, just looked up at her doubtfully. She was pale, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes closed.

"No!" He rose, crossing the room at an agitated pace. "After all this time you think you're just going to go off by yourself?"

"Yes."

"That's stupid!"

"We aren't accomplishing anything the way things are now."

"And where do you think you're going to go?"

Her face fell; her shoulders sank. "I can't do this right now, Kenji."

"What are you going to do, try to beat us to Tokyo? You know that's where he is—"

"It doesn't matter what I do!"

"It will if you get yourself killed!"

She straightened, her chin high below her ireful glare. "Goodnight, Kenji!" She slammed her door in his face and he made a few obscene gestures at it before scowling as he speared the rest of the fish Asuka had left behind, taking a huge mouthful.

About thirty seconds later he thrust her door open.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed in horror.

"Do you still hate my father?"

"What?"

"Do you still hate him? Do you still blame him for whatever happened?"

He saw her jaw tighten, and rigidly she whispered "yes."

"Then why did you protect my mother?"

She stared in shocked confusion for a moment, then her eyes fell and she straightened uncomfortably. "I just got stabbed . . ."

"You defended her, Asuka. Why? Why didn't you kill her, or me, and how did they know you that night? If you'd already met my parents why were they both still alive?"

"It wasn't the right time," she muttered.

His brow wrinkled in anger and his narrow eyes darkened. His voice was quiet but livid.

"Is it now?"

Her pale eyes turned slowly into his, wide and anxious. "What do you . . .?"

"Isn't that why you're going back alone? Will you meet up with Toru and kill them before we've even reached Tokyo?"

"No!" she cried angrily, rising to her feet and staring him down stiffly. "That man tried to _kill_ me, Kenji! I can't believe you think I would—"

"So you'll do it alone? I didn't end up helping much with your efforts to find Toru, but you can still go back and get Battousai, right?"

She inhaled sharply, clenching her fists. "No!"

"Then what are you going to do?"

He'd mostly expected a violent and fiery comeback; instead Asuka was just staring intently at the ground and chewing on her bottom lip. Her voice was faint and pained.

"I don't know!"

"Why not?"

Her fervid gaze fixed on him. "I _saw_ Battousai, Kenji, I know it was a long time ago but I saw him kill Okaasan!" She abruptly dropped her burning face and Kenji froze. Her _mother?_

"Everything was falling into place when we found you, but . . . after Toru tried to—your father was trying to save me. He was trying to _save_ me after I'd nearly murdered his wife . . . he should have wanted me dead." She sank further, her fingers tightening in her hair. "I can't go back, Kenji." She dropped slowly back to the floor.

Kenji realized he was tugging at his sleeve tensely and cleared his throat in an awkward silence breaker.

"Asuka, it wasn't him."

"That's easy to say, Kenji."

"No, you're from Hokkaido, right?" He took her silence as an affirmation. "My father's never even been there."

At that her head rose slowly, arduously; she looked severely ill.

"What? But—"

"If he had been I would know. My parents never let me out of their sight. And besides," he added cautiously, "I'd never even seen him hold a sword until . . . that night."

She was squeezing her legs to her chest desperately. "Are you sure?"

He nodded firmly, though his response was quiet. "Yes." And she stared ahead in steely silence for a few moments.

"Kenji?" He glanced up to show his attention. "Could you please leave?"

She didn't have to repeat herself. He swallowed nervously as he closed her door; that hadn't gone as he'd anticipated. If she was on his side he'd wanted them both angrily focused on Toru, on the same page. But here she went feeling unsure and guilty—a disturbing enough sight on its own even when he ignored what it was she was regretting—and he was stuck being hateful alone.

He jumped as the fusama behind him slid back open. Asuka's face was drawn and agonized, but with pursed lips she nodded.

"He's there."

* * *

It was that very night that Asuka awoke with the uncomfortable sensation that someone was staring at her. She didn't react at first; her eyelids felt stiff and leaden, but when she finally pulled them open her blurry eyes met those of Shinya, which were hovering over his amused smirk.

"She's finally up," he said, Asuka wasn't sure to whom. He moved aside so she could see Kenji, dressed and armed and waiting.

"Already?"

"Already," he affirmed with a weak smile. "Otherwise we'll lose our nerve."

Sanosuke arched an eyebrow. Something was different.

"What about him?" she asked in irritation was she caught sight of Sano, who frowned. He still wasn't sure what it was, but something about this girl really bugged the crap out of him.

"I already tried to convince Shinya to leave him behind. It's not worth it," he muttered, absently nursing a large bruise on his cheek. He extended a hand; she reluctantly took it and let him pull her to her feet.

"Do you even have a plan for when we get there?"

"Well make it up as we go."

"Kenji! We might be fairly safe here but in Tokyo—"

"Hey, if we get caught we'll just break out. It's not like we don't have experience, and this guy can get out of anywhere," he said, pointing his thumb at Sano.

She glanced darkly at him. "He'd leave me behind."

"You better believe it," Sano muttered.

Regardless, Asuka packed her things and the awkward party of four headed out, though both she and Kenji seemed rather antsy. They managed to hitch a ride on a cart driven by an elderly man either extremely trusting or wary of their swords and guns and the two settled down in the hay grimly. Just minutes later Sanosuke glanced across at them and grinned. The pair was already out cold.

"Well, sorry the three of you didn't find anything about that Toru guy," he whispered to Shinya as they glanced back at the receding lights; Shinya just shrugged.

"That's all right; I don't know why we're looking for him anyway. Besides, Kenji wanted to get out of Osaka as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"He said it reminds him of Chou."


	19. In Tokyo

Ok, a few notes concerning questions and comments some of you have made:

The bit about Chou at the end of the last chapter was just a reference to the fact that Chou's from Osaka. Kenji wouldn't have known that, but he would have recognized the accent.

Also, Asuka's mother was murdered around eight years ago. That was sort of mentioned back at the end of chapter 8, as well as in her confrontation with Kenshin, when she thinks _you were younger eight years ago._ I should have brought that up again or made it clearer, though, since it's been awhile.

And an apology about Shinya: originally this story started totally differently and Kenji was going off on these adventures with someone else. Back then the other person was necessary, but when I changed the plot and got rid of him I felt like Kenji still needed somebody else to drag along, so I threw in Shinya. I guess I didn't totally think it through though, because he isn't really needed all that much (besides when Saitou blackmailed Kenji with sending him home). I guess he just became a plot device in the end. Hopefully I'll be able to do more with him in the future, but for now he hasn't been one of my major focuses. Anyway, on to the chapter!

* * *

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Nineteen: In Tokyo**

A wagon wheel struck a rock in the road, and Sano jolted awake as something jabbed him in the ribs. He glanced blearily down; the jump had knocked Shinya's shinai sideways into him. With an exhausted sigh he shoved the weapon aside, though he took care not to wake its owner.

He glanced at Kenji only to find him in the same stiff meditative stance he'd been in when Sano had fallen asleep, his eyes still closed in angry concentration. He probably hadn't moved for hours, but Sanosuke didn't dare venture even prodding him to check for consciousness. In fact, he had a distinct fear that any sort of move would warrant an attack. The boy had agreed to return to Tokyo, but his demeanor since that decision made it clear that he was far from happy about it.

And Asuka? Sano stifled a laugh. She'd fallen asleep on Kenji's shoulder. It was a welcome change from her behavior during the rest of the trip: always pale and tense, exhausted and on edge simultaneously. Just watching her frayed nerves had made him anxious. This was the first time he'd seen her sleep since Osaka.

One of Kenji's eyes slipped curiously open and he glowered, his apprehensive suspicion affirmed.

"We're here," he grumbled to Sanosuke. The older man turned. The capital was still distant, but in sight. Kenji sighed.

It was the middle of the night; at least that part had worked out. They wouldn't risk recognition at this point. Still, as he and Asuka had discussed earlier, they hadn't thought this through very well. They'd retuned to Tokyo, but now what? They couldn't just walk out in the open, not with the risk of either his family or Toru seeing them. They had to do something about Sanosuke and Shinya. They were running low on money. They had no place to stay.

He began giving the driver instructions to a cheap inn, but Sanosuke cut his directions short with the assurance that he knew somewhere where they could stay for free. It was only after rummaging through his wallet that Kenji reluctantly agreed.

At first Katsu was angry at the sight of the ragged group on his doorstep (especially considering the fact that the two figures carried two others which for all he knew were dead), until a familiar voice sounded in the darkness. Kenji frowned upon the reunion, thinking this man was greeting Sano with more trust than the man merited, but then again, he did seem like the sort of crowd the fighter would run with. Too tired to protest, he tramped inside after Sanosuke to Katsu's mild griping that there wasn't enough room, put Asuka down and sprawled out on the floor to a night of restless but much needed sleep.

The semi-consciousness lasted only a short time, and then Kenji was staring with bloodshot eyes at the ceiling. He spotted a straw hat in the corner and made a mental note to borrow it in the morning. His appearance had altered since he'd left: besides the darker hair he was slimmer, tanner and altogether angrier looking if there was any truth in Asuka's teasing, but he still risked recognition just walking openly in the city.

"Can't sleep?"

Great. Here was the last thing he needed. Sano had just wandered in—he should have noticed sooner and feigned unconsciousness.

"You can't either."

"Just catching up. I've known him since I was a kid, and it's been almost twenty years."

"He's going to kick us out, isn't he."

"Nah, he'll do a favor for Kenshin's kid."

"Don't start that again."

"What?"

"Now you expect me to believe my father knows _him_ too? Cut it out Sagara; you might know who my parents are but all of those stories about them are bull."

"How do you know?"

"I know my parents," he scoffed.

"Apparently not," the other muttered.

Kenji chose to ignore him; instigating a fight right now wouldn't be the wisest thing to do, not when he needed a favor from the guy.

"What are you going to do now that you're back?" he asked a few minutes later.

Sanosuke shrugged. "Catch up with everyone else, I guess. Find out if the cops are still after me."

"So you'll be staying in Tokyo for awhile."

"Probably."

"Then I want you to take Shinya home."

Sano smiled. "You're not going to?"

He gave Sano a dark look, not amused. "Just do it. The Akabeko is—"

"I know where the Akabeko is, Kenji. I just hope Tae hasn't been charging me interest all these years."

Kenji frowned. _Tae too?_

Sano caught the look on his face. "Yes Kenji, I really do know them. It may be hard to believe, but I'm not making it up."

Kenji's next question was quiet and sounded almost defeated. "Are you going to tell them where we are?"

"Well yeah. They're probably worried sick about their idiotic son."

"Fine. Asuka and I will just stay somewhere else."

"And how long can you run? How are you going to find Toru without anyone finding out you're here?"

"We'll manage."

"With no money and no help?"

"Asuka's good at this sort of thing."

"That's not the point! Your dad lied to you, you're mad, I get it, but are you really going to avoid him and your mother for the rest of your life?"

Kenji's angry expression slowly slipped from his face. Sano noticed him glance sadly, almost worriedly at Asuka.

"You don't know what happened."

Perplexity barely began to describe Sano's confusion about this kid. He was way too rash and reckless to be acting like this considering the situation. From what he'd seen of him so far, he would have assumed that confronting Kenshin would be the first thing on Kenji's mind. Instead avoidance seemed his top priority. Why would he be afraid of that meeting? There was no reason, unless—Sano jerked visibly—unless it had already happened. His eyes shot to the boy again, whose unsettled gaze was still fixed on Asuka. Shaking his head, Sano sighed.

"I'll give you a week."

* * *

Now the only problem remaining for Kenji was Shinya. The boy just laughed at Kenji when he told him he had to go home, and when he realized his companion was serious he threw a fit to rival Kenji's when he'd first been told he couldn't have a real sword. But the towering Sanosuke easily won that argument, and Kenji followed warily as his young friend was carried off over the rooster's shoulder. He wanted to make sure Sanosuke didn't break the promise to give him time—if he did Kenji would at least have enough time to get back to Katsu's and get Asuka out of there.

He felt ill as they drew near the Akabeko and pulled the brim of his hat down nervously.

Nothing had changed. He found himself absently counting the weeks he'd been gone on his fingers, all that time and nothing had changed. It was an uncomfortable realization; he'd abandoned this place, but it seemed indifferent to his absence.

Sanosuke was sauntering up to the restaurant, the helpless Shinya hanging over his shoulder and staring back petulantly, until Sano's footsteps slowly stopped and all three of them inhaled sharply.

"Kaoru-san!" had echoed across the street.

While Kenji was numbly slinking backwards Sano's jaw had dropped in humored shock, and Shinya arched his head around, eyes frantic for the source of the voice: his mother.

"Kaoru-san," Tsubame repeated, stepping out of the restaurant and waving Kenji's mother over as Yahiko joined her.

"Yahiko—" Kaoru answered with a nervous smile, "you're back? Anything . . . ?"

He glanced at Tsubame, whose gaze had dropped, then just silently shook his head.

"Have you heard anything from Kenshin?"

"Not really," she responded forlornly. "There was an incident in Osaka, but—"

"I was just there," Yahiko interrupted with a mutter. "If it was them they're long gone."

Kenji glanced askance at Shinya, whose eyes had welled up at the sight of his worried parents—he'd missed them more than he'd realized. Noting the same thing, Sano dumped the kid on his feet. He hesitated for a moment, then took a few quick steps forward.

"Do you think they're all right?" Tsubame was asking. Yahiko gave the obligatory reassurance, and Kaoru nodded along with a weak smile. Shinya advanced.

"Okaasan—" he blurted.

And the down-staring Tsubame suddenly jolted, her head jerking around toward the cautious voice. Yahiko instinctively caught her shoulders as her knees buckled and her eyes became damp.

"Shinya!" was her disbelieving whisper.

With a reckless smile the boy sprinted forward, and Kenji shrank uncomfortably, guiltily, as Tsubame gathered him in a fervent embrace, ignoring his protests that she was getting his gi wet. Yahiko smacked the boy on the back of the head when his mother finally released him, but even from a distance Kenji could see the grateful and relieved emotion on his face as well.

Through all of it Kaoru looked on, battling the emotions of hope and disappointment. It wasn't long before the imminent question came, expectant but fearful: "Is Kenji with you?" The joyful reunion became silent. Kenji prayed that Sano would keep his bargain and Shinya would keep his mouth shut.

Shinya seemed confused, unsure of how to answer, and looked relieved when Sano stepped up and rubbed his head with a smile.

"Don't worry Jou-chan, he's on his way."

The three adults turned at his voice, but Kenji just arched an eyebrow.

_Jou-chan?_

To his surprise his mother actually responded, albeit a bit delayed. They were all looking Sanosuke over in confusion, and Tsubame nearly pulled Shinya away from the strange man intuitively. But after a few moments both she and Yahiko gasped, and a dumbfounded grin split across Kaoru's face.

"SANO!"

And Kenji stared, aghast, as his mother ran forward and practically tackled the man.

_Your parents and I go way back._

_It's too bad Kenshin isn't here._

_I bet they told you about all of our adventures saving Japan . . ._

Then . . . he wasn't just a crazy ex-patriot stalker? They were actually _friends?_ Then all those stories he'd told—he wasn't just trying to sound cool by making some run-in he once had with Battousai sound like more than it was—they were true. Kenji wanted to keep denying it, but the very sight of Sanosuke was making his mother cry . . .

"I can't believe you told your son I was dead!" Sano was protesting, though with a smirk, and Yahiko retorted as if their time apart had been days instead of years.

"Well you stopped writing, what were we supposed to think?"

"Yeah," Kaoru interjected, poking him in the chest as she brushed away a tear, "I bet you're only back for the free food."

But that was all of the reunion that Kenji witnessed, as he was already groaning in frustration and on his way back to Katsu's.

Jou-chan? Seriously?

* * *

It was with curious irritation that Katsu noticed that Sano never returned that night, probably off getting drunk with Battousai after all these years. Two of his young companions, however, seemed to have no intention of leaving. He'd taken a slight liking to the girl after she'd shown interest in his bombs, but was on the verge of rescinding that attachment when she and the boy were up talking _all night._ He would have just told them to shut up, if not for the ominous aura their room breathed. That, and when he'd caught a glimpse of them through a rip in the fusama she'd looked so distressed that one cruel word may have pushed her to tears.

They slept most of the next day, understandably, until around dusk, when the boy bid farewell with a nauseous smile. Katsu wandered up next to Asuka, who was biting her lip and watching the departing figure tensely.

"Where's he off to?" Katsu asked casually, but he ended up just shrugging off her quiet, cryptic answer.

"The dojo."

* * *

Kenji couldn't count the number of times he'd almost turned around. He'd actually done it more than once, determined to go back to Katsu's, grab Asuka, and get out of this disheartening and gloomy city. But every time he'd found his hesitant footsteps meandering reluctantly back toward the dojo.

He was here. There were the tall wooden doors he'd burst through that night, a dying Asuka in his arms. Vaguely he wondered if there were still blood stains inside. He sighed.

What was he doing here? So Sano had been telling the truth all along. That didn't really change anything; it just meant there was even more his father hadn't told him. Neither he nor Asuka wanted this, it would have been easier to run from this inevitability forever, but the fact was that Toru was after Battousai. He couldn't protect his mother if he was avoiding her, and the assistance of Yahiko, Sanosuke, even his father . . . it was something they didn't know if they could do this without.

There was a sound to his right; Kenji's panicky gaze shot in that direction. A suffocating pressure filled his head as he recognized the noise as a footstep. He attempted to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, but his hand was so clammy that the effort only succeeded in making him shudder. He was left just standing there helplessly, unable to make a verbal attack because his lungs had apparently abandoned their normal function.

Otousan.


	20. Otousan

Hello! I have returned. Sorry it's been so long and sorry this one is kind of short; it just worked better that way. For those of you who have been reading this but don't remember what's going on and don't want to reread: Kenji, Asuka, Shinya, and Sano just returned to Tokyo. Kenji and Asuka are chilling with Katsu, and at the end of the last chapter Kenji went back to the dojo and Kenshin just showed up. And go! (also: thanks reviewers!)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Twenty: Otousan**

Kenshin looked older than Kenji remembered. The bag slung over his back seemed to be weighing him down more than it should have, and even as he smiled he looked gaunt and exhausted. Kenji flinched and glanced down, suddenly battered mercilessly with the shame he'd been denying and ignoring since the night he'd taken part in the attack on his own home. Kenshin's haggard appearance was clearly the result of travel—he'd been looking for him. For how long?

"That hair makes you look like your mother."

Kenji's miserable gaze lifted. How could he just make small talk and _smile_ like that? After everything that had happened, there was no criticism, no guilt-inducing expression of worry, no attempt at punishment . . . just an innocent and relieved grin. Kenji's chest felt tight.

But there was anger too. Not enough to compel him to draw his sword on his father again, but enough to make him stubbornly withhold forgiveness. Still, after all that had happened . . .

"I want to know _everything_, Otousan," he said firmly, "about the revolution, Sanosuke,"—Kenshin's eyes widened—"your relationship with Fujita, _all _of it."

The redhead nodded with an anxious smile. "I know."

I was a long time before either spoke again; there was stiff and uncomfortable silence as Kenji dragged heavy feet behind his father. He didn't know where he was being led and why they weren't just talking at the dojo—maybe Kenshin wanted to make sure he was staying this time before Kaoru saw him and got her hopes up. Or maybe he was trying to protect him from Kaoru's fatal wrath. Either way, he suspected it had something to do with her.

Kenshin finally stopped at the riverbank and sat, still silent, waiting for Kenji to join him but not glancing back. There was a sickly frown on Kenji's face as he seated himself a few feet away, warily avoiding eye contact.

Forget the fact that he'd tried to kill this man; this would have been awkward even if he'd never left home. Even before this whole Battousai escapade he and Kenshin hadn't gotten a lot of father/son time, mostly because Kenji was irreversibly convinced that they had absolutely nothing in common. He'd gotten along much better with his mother; they shared kendo. Kenshin had, well, laundry and cooking—not real conversation starters. Now throw in the fact that his father was _actually_ the most famous swordsman in Japan, and, oh yeah, he'd attacked him, and this was probably the most tense situation Kenji had ever found himself in. Except the night he'd actually done the attacking, that was probably the winner. He'd rather be anywhere else right now: being patronized by Fujita, arguing with Chou, even getting pummeled by Asuka in a bar. He would definitely rather be with Asuka in a bar.

"Your mother was kidnapped here."

Surprise knocked Kenji out of his thoughts and caused him to glance over. Then Kenshin's words sunk in—that wasn't what he'd expected.

"She was stolen right in front of me," Kenshin muttered, guilt about the almost 20-year-old incident still shading his words, "and all I could do was stand there and watch. We hadn't even known each other that long then; I was just staying at the dojo—"

"You lived together before you got married?" Kenji found himself instinctively interrupting, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ah . . . that . . . is not what it seems," Kenshin responded with a small smile conveying nervous guilt. Kenji leaned slightly toward him as if unbelieving. His father had really done an impeccable job at making himself seem like a paragon of morality all these years. Each crack in that mask was becoming harder to believe.

"That wasn't even the first time I put her life in danger," Kenshin continued with a sigh. "And once they went as far as staging her murder." He turned his sad gaze on his son, who managed to stare uncomfortably back. "I'm not strong enough to watch the two of you get hurt because of who I was anymore. It's been long enough that most of the threats have stopped, but I didn't want you involved in any way—and you would have found a way to get involved, I know you. That's why I never told the truth."

Both pairs of eyes fell again.

"This is going to take awhile, son," was Kenshin's regretful whisper.

Kenji hadn't looked at his father in what seemed like hours, his wide, pained eyes fixed instead on the patch of grass between his feet. His hands, each clutching an unsteady knee, were white and sweaty, and he felt like it'd taken a few blows from one of Sano's fists and then been drenched in icy water.

He couldn't take anymore; his head throbbed with distressing and suddenly unwelcome knowledge, he felt like he was suffocating, or ill, or both . . .

It all seemed so surreal, but as his father's hollow voice recounted the events in excruciating and self-debasing detail he knew every word of it had to be true. His mouth opened in silent protest, and when nothing came out his vision blurred, his face crumpled. He cried. Kenshin's head dropped as his son's face sank into his hands and hot, angry tears dripped to the ground.

Shinta. That was the beginning of it. His father could have at least started slow, instead of hitting him with the fact that Kenshin wasn't even his original name. Sadly, it didn't take Kenji long to realize that _was_ slow, at least compared to what was coming.

Cholera, death, slaves, and then Hiko—Kenji now understood that reference Fujita—er, Saitou—had made, the one he'd thought was crazy but suddenly made perfect sense.

A rivalry with the Shinsengumi, a 15-year-old assassin working for the Ishin Shishi, night after night of murder in the shadows, there was no way that was his dad . . .

Then Kenshin's voice had caught. He looked unsure, pale, but with a gulp he pressed on. Kenji had a feeling he was skipping something.

The revolution ended and led to ten years of wandering—not the most exciting part of the story, but after Kenshin had recounted his meeting with Kaoru it seemed like a simple string of enemies and battles—Gohei, Sanosuke, Jin'eh, Hannya, Aoshi, Kanryu, Raijuuta, Saitou, Soujirou, Chou, Shishio—

His father and Sano had initially been enemies? Aoshi, too? Megumi really _had_ made opium; his mother had been kidnapped and threatened, they'd fought and saved _Japan_ . . .

Then Kenshin took a shaky breath, and embarked on the finale, rewinding several years. Kiyosato. Enishi.

. . . Tomoe.

"Does Mom know?"

"Everything."

He'd tried to kill this man.

"I'm . . ." Kenji said hoarsely, "I'm—"

He felt Kenshin's hand on his arm. He couldn't look up, but still he felt his father's smile.

"Why don't you go get Asuka, and come home."

A whimper.

_I'm sorry._

"Your mother would like to see you." Kenji's eyes remained clenched closed.

"Can I tell her you're coming home?"


	21. Stranger in the Doorway

**TrisakAminawn:** Assuming I'm capable of basic math Kenji is 16/17 at this point, so yeah, embarrassing.

**RavenWolfmoon:** I forgot to address some confusion you brought up a couple of chapters ago. When Sanosuke is reunited with Yahiko/Tsubame/Kaoru and says "I can't believe you told your son I was dead!" I meant for him to be addressing Yahiko. Shinya's right there so it's not as weird.

Thanks so much to all of the reviewers once again! This one's longer for you! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: You know…

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Stranger in the Doorway**

Kaoru awoke nauseated and nervous that morning; she usually did anymore. A nightmare about Kenji hadn't been what chased her out of unconsciousness this time, though, and with relief and joy tainted slightly by disappointment she recognized that the futon was warmer than it had been in several nights. Smiling softly, sadly, she opened her eyes to the welcome face of her husband. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

"Welcome home," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead; he didn't stir. She hadn't seen him look this painfully exhausted in a very long time. He hadn't woken her up when he came in, which meant it had been a Kenji-less return trip once again. She'd wanted so badly to go with him, to help him, but with his sweet and comforting smile he'd assured her that the school needed her, kindly leaving out the fact that he would be able to search more efficiently without her anyway. He didn't need to; she knew. At least he still stopped in every once in a while to rest, check if she'd heard anything, and let her see that he was still okay. But he'd been gone a lot longer this time.

She rose quietly, deciding the least he deserved when he finally got up was some breakfast. She slid the fusama shut silently behind her, and her fingers brushed achingly across Kenji's long unused one as she passed it. She stopped, blinked, and rapidly shook her head.

Her mind was just playing tricks on her. For a second it had looked like the door was open, just a fraction, but there was no way . . . she turned her head back with slow caution.

A sob rose in her throat and she suddenly felt a little lightheaded—it was! But she or Kenshin or one of the students may have just bumped it, and the wind had been particularly strong lately as well, maybe it had been open the whole time.

She bit her tongue to keep from screaming; there was definitely someone breathing on the other side. She flung the fusama open with ecstatic enthusiasm—and her elation instantly deflated.

Why was there _brown_ hair fanning out across the pillow?

"Wow," the figure groaned, squinting tiredly up at her, "don't look so happy to see me." She frowned, trying to swallow her shock as she glanced around for a weapon.

"Jou-chan."

Oh right. She smiled guiltily. "Sorry Sanosuke," the smile faded a degree, "I guess I didn't tell you that was Kenji's room . . ." there was an awkward pause, "I'll go make breakfast."

Sano sat up and stretched, then glanced up at Kenshin, who had wandered out to see who his wife was talking to. The redhead looked at him; blinked, glanced at the retreating Kaoru, then back at Sano. A few more moments of a blank stare.

"Do I know you?"

Sano's jaw dropped in only half-feigned offense. How dare him—

"I can't believe you! I know I was gone a long time but—"

"Eighteen whole years," Kenshin interrupted with a smile. He extended a hand to help Sano up. "Welcome back, old friend. You've been missed."

Sano grinned as he rose and then nodded in the direction Kaoru was headed, raising his eyebrows.

"You and Kaoru sure have been busy," he said, elbowing Kenshin. "How many more little scamps have you got running around here—"

He saw Kaoru's ears redden. Kenshin smiled dryly.

"You haven't changed at all."

"I grew a beard."

"You should probably get rid of it; you'll frighten the children."

"I knew it—hey!"

"No Sano, just Kenji."

Kaoru was out of earshot now, and Sano dropped his grin.

"You know he's back."

Kenshin nodded with an unsettled frown. "Yes."

"You didn't tell her?"

"He wanted me to wait; I think he needs some time to think first."

Sanosuke nodded for a moment, that was the very reason he hadn't mentioned anything, then realized what Kenshin had just said and whipped his head around to stare at him disbelievingly.

"Hang on; he's already talked to you? I thought after that he'd definitely—"

"_You've_ seen him? Don't tell me you're the fourth person they've been traveling with . . ."

Sano grimaced nervously. "I met up with them in Osaka. I did convince them to come to Tokyo though . . . you're welcome?"

Kenshin looked suddenly frantic. "Was Asuka with you?"

"What? You know her?"

"Yes, is she all right? Kenji didn't say."

"Are you kidding me? She wanted to kill you!"

"I know, that's not the point."

"You _know!_"

"Well yes—"

And then Sanosuke remembered; this was Kenshin he was talking to. He'd forgotten what this was like while traipsing around the world for nearly two decades. This little corner of the planet was different. Of course Kenshin was worried about the girl that had probably tried to murder him.

"Of course . . ."

"What?"

"Nothing Kenshin," he patted his friend on the back, "she's fine."

* * *

"Breakfast," Kenji muttered bleakly as he threw their meal down in front of Asuka, who remained staring wistfully out the window. "_Break_fast," he repeated, "hey ookami-musume—"

Her weary gaze rolled over to greet his. "Been awhile since you used that one." He stared back blankly. "What?" she asked.

"You know, this is where you start verbally abusing me . . ."

That actually cracked a smile, the first one he'd seen on her in days. "Sorry Kenji, I guess I'm just not in the mood right now. I'll miss those, though."

Kenji groaned and threw down his chopsticks. "Asuka, we've been through this. It won't be as effective if we look for Toru separately—"

"But you're going back now. I agreed to come to Tokyo since he's probably here, but I never said I'd go back to that dojo with you. Besides," she added, grinning at him playfully, "if you bring a girl home with you what will the _neighbors_ think?" He responded with a stare severely lacking in amusement.

"Then stay with Yahiko and Tsubame."

"Great idea! I'll just walk in and say 'hey, remember me? I almost died in your house that one time? No?'"

"Asuka—"

"No, you're missing the point, Kenji. How many times do I have to remind you that _I tried to kill your parents?_ I can't go back there at _all_."

Oddly, that excuse seemed almost laughable to Kenji after the information he'd gleaned from his father. "So did Sanosuke," he blurted. "Well, just my father, but still. Aoshi too. And Saitou or Fujita or whatever his real name is has wanted to off my father since the revolution. I don't think they're on the greatest terms, but—"

He paused to gauge her reaction; she suddenly looked ashen.

"It's Saitou," she muttered miserably.

Right . . .

"Look, I was there too; at least you're not their kid. Obviously it's not going to be easy, but I need you there to help find Toru and keep all of them safe. And—" he stopped, his face reddening as a twitchy frown took over.

"What?"

"It's just—he almost killed you once, Asuka, and if you're on your own that could happen again, and I—don't . . . want it to . . ."

He was glaring at her in offended horror seconds later. She had snorted at him. _Actually_ _snorted._

"Is this your protective side Kenji?" she asked when her laughter had subsided long enough to allow her to properly breathe, "because it's absolutely precious."

His eyes grew wider and his face turned redder. "Shut up, stupid ookami! I just meant it would be inconvenient if—"

"She's right Kenji, that _was_ adorable."

"What the—SHUT IT, KATSU!"

* * *

Kaoru's bristling glare was beginning to unnerve Sano. He hadn't missed this.

She was too astute _not_ to realize they both knew something she didn't, too used to it. Sanosuke had come close several times to just telling her, but that would surely send her on an instant manhunt and he knew Kenshin didn't want to do anything that would scare Kenji away.

Still, she was beginning to look menacing with that sword, even if it was only a bokken. He pitied the frightened-looking students scampering around their sensei in hopes that they didn't catch a random strike from that thing.

"Why is she so angry?" one of the younger students whispered, shifting nervously. "She's reminding me of Kenji-san."

That lesson ended abruptly. Sano didn't watch the grateful kids scurry out; instead his eyes were focused on Kaoru, who had dropped her bokken as her head fell languidly back so she faced the ceiling. He frowned.

"He'll come back, Jou-chan."

Her head snapped back up and she turned on him furiously, her ireful eyes making him shrink a little bit. "_Don't_ patronize me, Sanosuke. You brought Shinya back; I know you've seen him. If he were coming back too he would have already." She snatched up her bokken and slammed the shoji shut, leaving him to stare blankly.

An hour later she still stood in the now clean training hall. Kenshin would probably be calling for dinner soon. Sanosuke would be there, and Yahiko and Tsubame were coming over, Shinya with them . . .

Her hand slipped from Kenji's name on the wall and her face fell. Was it selfish to be angry because she hadn't gotten _her_ son back? Was it wrong that she could feel tears coming on when tonight was about celebrating the reunion with Shinya and Sanosuke?

The door slid open and there were footsteps behind her, and silence. She couldn't turn around, she didn't want Kenshin to see her like this; he'd probably just feel guilty. Of course, it had to be obvious that she was crying; otherwise he wouldn't have awkwardly paused upon seeing her. "Sorry," she murmured, "I'll be there in a minute. Is Yahiko here already?"

Still silence, though she heard the rap of nervous fingers against the door. Finally a quiet voice.

"He's here. Are you almost ready?" Kenshin said; she was having difficulty discerning the tone of his voice. She glanced over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at the raven-haired man standing next to him, who promptly muttered something vulgar.

"Look, she's already _crying!_"

"She'll be angry soon enough," she heard Sano say from somewhere outside, and both her husband and his companion smiled nervously, the stranger obviously more so. She turned fully around, glaring at them in frustrated confusion but stepping forward to welcome her husband's guest.

"Um, it's been awhile . . ." the man who was apparently actually a boy said uncomfortably as she approached. He glanced at Kenshin with a baffled look on his face when she said nothing.

"The light is in her eyes?" Kenshin suggested.

Kaoru stopped a few feet from them, now thoroughly annoyed and wondering what on earth was going on. Was she supposed to know this scrawny, rude little—?

His nervous gaze shifted from his father back to her. She stared back for a moment, appraising, blinking away the teary blurriness of her eyes. The boy smiled weakly.

_It can't be . . ._

She inhaled violently. He was taller than Kenji, thinner, darker, and had an entirely different hair color, but those eyes . . .

She lunged at her son, furious tears burning red tracks down her cheeks.

"_YOU!_" she shrieked, her voice cracking as she gasped for breath, "you—" She let go of his gi, stared for a few moments into his hard but repentant expression. Then she punched him in the face.

Sano took a moment to step back and observe the scene before him. There was Kenji, on his butt and holding his nose as he cussed at his mother, and Kaoru, unapologetic but sobbing, trying to be angry but grinning like an idiot and repeating his name joyfully. And then there was Kenshin, who seemed quite at a loss of what to do, though he seemed unbothered by that fact. He caught Kenji's eye over his wife's head (as she was now hugging/smothering him) and smiled; Sano was more than mildly shocked to see Kenji nod and half-smile back.

Seriously? This family would be the death of him.


	22. If Eyes Don't Lie

Well, here you go. Chapter 22. If you even remember this story ;)

**Otousan's Lies**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: If Eyes Don't Lie…**

"Got him?" Kenji asked quietly, and at Yahiko's nod he released Shinya, now dozing obliviously on his father's back.

"Thanks."

"Yeah . . . um, Yahiko?"

"Yes?"

"I'm really sorry . . . that he got dragged along for all of this—"

Yahiko grinned at him and shook his head. "I know it's not your fault, Kenji. Thank you for getting him back safe."

Unable to respond, Kenji merely nodded and smiled weakly, warmly. He felt almost giddy with confusion after tonight, his first meal home. He was drunk with the richness of the food, something he'd been deprived of for quite some time, and overwhelmed with laughter, family, _normalcy_. The freshly throbbing black eye he'd received from his mother had been the only negative consequence of his return, and that was nothing short of miraculous, all things considered.

Kaoru had been full of effervescent and tearful glee; Kenshin had a quiet but elated smile on his face throughout the evening. The meal had been raucous, festive, emotional, and it was all a bit to take in for a boy that had been hiding and hunting in darkness all this time. More than once his thoughts had wandered to Asuka, still alone in Katsu's hut, probably sharpening a sword or learning how to make bombs from her host. This happiness didn't feel like something he deserved.

Tsubame waved goodbye for her husband and son, and the three left for home just as the moon was rising. Sanosuke and Kenshin followed them a few minutes later, with Sano assuring "Jou-chan" that he'd have her _husband_ (he still said the word with a bit of a snicker) home soon, they just had a lot to catch up on.

Would it really be this easy? Would it just go back to normal, without the subject of that night having to be breached? Everyone had just left it alone tonight, with conversation being mostly occupied by Sanosuke's adventures abroad and talk about goings-on in Tokyo. That didn't completely eradicate the discomfort; attempted patricide wasn't an easy thing to move past, but he felt no animosity from his parents. There was no fear or anger, just unadulterated relief that he'd come back to them.

Kaoru turned from bidding farewell to everyone and smiled gratefully over at him. Before he knew it he was caught in another one of her tight hugs.

"I love you so much . . ." she whispered. Somewhat abashed, he mumbled something in response into her shoulder. She grinned and pulled back, slapping him on the back and dragging him toward the dojo to show him something new in the training hall.

* * *

The illusion continued for awhile, but before long Kenji was repeating to himself that he'd known this simplistically happy reunion was too good to be true.

"KEN_SHIIIN!_"

It was the middle of the night when that shattering and livid scream shook the dojo. The redhead opened bleary eyes, and upon seeing the otherwise unoccupied futon realized his wife was screeching at him from outside.

"What is it?" he replied groggily after a short, apprehensive delay.

"_Get out here!_" she shrieked in response. "_You_ keep quiet," he heard her mutter; "So help me, do we have to post a _guard _outside?" Her volume was increasing again—

"Kaoru, please!" Kenshin hushed as he hurried outside, "you'll wake the neighbors!"

"Who cares about the stupid neighbors?"

Kenshin barely stifled a laugh as he came across them. Kaoru was staring at him, her eyes wide with expectant fury, with a fistful of Kenji's gi tight in her unforgiving grasp. Their son was white and breathless with the terror he must have felt when his mother's vengeful hand appeared out of nowhere and yanked his midnight escape attempt to a halt, but his face only showed disappointed frustration.

"He was trying to run away again!" Kaoru exclaimed, angrily shaking the arm that had a hold of Kenji and waiting for a reaction from her husband.

"I already told you Okaasan; I'm not running away! I'll be back in the morning!"

"You think I'm stupid you little punk—can you believe this Kenshin? Back for one night and already—"

"He's been sneaking out every night since he got back, Kaoru," Kenshin said bluntly, with a tired sigh. "He'll come back."

"_What?_"

They'd yelled it together. Apparently Kenji had thought he hadn't been noticed all this time, and Kaoru couldn't believe this was the first time she'd caught him.

"You've been following me?" Kenji asked sourly, though not with surprise.

Knowing he couldn't provide a response that wouldn't anger one of them, Kenshin proceeded cautiously.

" . . . no."

Kenji's eyes widened in unexpected pleasure, but Kaoru scowled.

"You're telling me that you've just been letting our son wander around Tokyo in the middle of the night alone? You knew he was leaving and you didn't _follow_ him? What if he'd gone off to Kyoto again?"

Kenji's surprise had quickly faded, and now he wore a debasing smirk. "You didn't follow me, but you knew, right?" Kenshin didn't need to answer, and Kenji expressed an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, there you go Okaasan; he's still got tabs on me even when he doesn't. I'll be back in the morning."

"For what it's worth, Kenji, it's not that I don't trust you. It just wasn't hard to figure out."

Kenji glanced back at his father's truthful half-smile, nodding his acceptance of that after a few moments.

"And Kenji," Kenshin added as his son turned to leave, "please tell us when it gets dangerous. You may not want our help, but we're still your parents. And I'm still-"

"I know. See you in the morning."

Kaoru rushed forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him around to face her stern yet desperate gaze.

"You promise you'll come back?"

He squeezed her hand and smiled weakly back. "I'll come back, Okaasan."

"_Promise._"

Kenji swallowed and glanced at Kenshin with an air of awkward nervousness, then back at Kaoru. "Look, Okaasan, I'm . . . I'm sorry about before, and I don't—I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt you like that again. I'm not going to run away again. I mean it." He was left shifting uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze for a few moments until she final broke into a smile and pulled him into a hug, _again_ he thought with an only half-bothered sigh.

"Okay," she whispered, "Thank you. Please be careful."

Kaoru's shoulders sank as they watched him slip through the gate.

"When things get . . . dangerous," she whispered, reluctantly accepting that inevitability and knowing why she had to, "promise you'll tell me, too."

"I don't think I'll have to," Kenshin answered gravely.

"But even if you trust him to come back, Kenshin, is it really safe for Kenji to be out there on his own like this if that man is still . . ."

"Well . . ." and Kenshin smiled sheepishly, "he's not _really_ on his own . . ."

"You said you weren't following him."

"I'm not, but . . ."

Kaoru grinned disbelievingly and shook her head. "You've been having Sano tail him."

" . . . don't tell him."

"I still don't like the idea of you staying in this place," Kenji muttered as he slipped into Asuka's dark room, "he could find you here, you know."

"That's partially the point, Kenji," she said back with a wry half-smile. "We are trying to find _him_, remember?"

"That doesn't mean we have to put you in a position where he could take you by surprise," he protested only half-heartedly, knowing it wasn't going to get him anywhere. When he'd gone back to the dojo she'd decided she couldn't stay at Katsu's anymore; they really didn't even know the man. He understood her reasoning, but would have preferred her living almost anywhere over one of the old places she'd stayed with Toru. But trying to convince her to come to the dojo had proved to be one of the stupidest—and resultantly painful—things he could have suggested. And even if they'd had money for another place, the cops were probably still after her. So they took advantage of the fact that the landowner here was both terrified of and slightly infatuated with her and she got off free for a time.

"Well, any news?" he asked, shoving those thoughts from his mind. This was what they did every night: exchange information and look for evidence of Toru. Their efforts so far had been fruitless.

"No," she murmured despondently.

It was the same the next night.

"Maybe he's not coming back."

"He'll come back," Asuka grumbled. "He won't be satisfied until Battousai's suffered."

"Can't you stop calling him that? He's my dad."

"Sorry."

Asuka was growing frustrated; Toru wasn't stupid but he was patient, which meant he really had the upper hand in this. Meanwhile, she could do nothing but keep an eye out for him and run out of money, wondering how long she could keep this up for. She wouldn't rely on Kenji, but she definitely couldn't go _home_; she wasn't just leaving after all that had happened and the very thought of walking back into that house in Sapporo both infuriated and horrified her. She'd sooner go live with that moron Sanosuke. So they pointlessly waited.

During the day Kenji had picked up teaching lessons again, though less than he had before. His midnight excursions left him asleep through the morning sessions, and now that his knowledge of Hiten Mitsurugi was known to his parents he took time during the day to practice that. He still found himself avoiding his father's gaze when training, though; he could tell Kenshin wasn't entirely fond of the idea. But Kenshin couldn't argue against the fact that it would be more useful against Toru, so Kenji's solo training went unhampered.

Things were settling; life felt normal again with the exception of the fact that he was regularly visiting a fugitive in the middle of the night. They still weren't hearing anything; they usually just ended up dozing off after he tried to convince her for the umpteenth time to just come to the dojo.

"Kenji?"

"Mm?" the groggy figure mumbled a poor excuse to be left asleep.  
"Kenji, you're exhausted, why don't you go home?"

Asuka gently jostled him, and with a start Kenji realized he'd passed out on her shoulder. He bolted up and groaned as his stiff joints protested.

"How long were we asleep?"

"About an hour. You should go back though; this storm's only going to get worse."

Kenji glanced out the window at the torrential rain and glared back at her. "You're really going to kick me out in _this_? I don't think it _could_ get any worse—"

"If you wait until it's through your mother's going to be furious."

"Right, right, my mother." He made his last half-hearted, unsuccessful attempt of the night to get her to come along, then braced himself and braved the storm. She watched him disappear from the window with a yawn.

"Well, isn't that cute."

Asuka's sword was drawn and aiming for the voice in a fraction of a second, but even as she stepped forward to strike she knew she'd miss. He saw her coming and slipped blithely to the side.

He was there. He was standing _right there_, staring at her looking irritated as if they'd just been arguing over soba like they used to. Neither she nor Kenji had noticed; how was that possible?

"How long have you been there?" she demanded frantically. Toru didn't answer; he didn't draw his weapon either. He was scowling at her, but motionless.

Asuka's sword quivered as she looked him over; he wasn't wet. It had been raining for hours . . .

"You inhuman . . ."

His face contorted in resentment. "What do you think you're _doing?_" he suddenly hissed. "Plotting with _him,_ the son of that—"

"It wasn't him, Toru," she found herself explaining reflexively, surprised at her own confidence.

"It _WAS_ _HIM!_" he retorted, unfazed. In the time it had taken for him to yell he'd knocked her weapon out of her hands. Then he was holding her inches from his own face, seething.

"You saw Battousai standing over your _dead—mother's—body_," he punctuated, "you know they're deceiving you, you know you have a _duty_ to right this—"

"I said it _wasn't him._"

"You told me it was. You sure were convinced of that when we first met."

"You tried to kill me!" she whispered suddenly, horrified by the memory but meeting his glare. "What right do you have to try and win my support now?"

"If I had honestly wanted to kill you, you would be dead, Asuka. You know that."

She did.

"Here I thought maybe you'd taken advantage of this situation to get close to them only to find out that you _actually trust them_. Not only that, you believe them over me, after all I did for you—"

"You convinced me to run away from home, used me, and stabbed me, Toru. I hardly think I owe you anything."

He shoved her away, shaking his head in hateful disgust. His gaze was uncomfortably probing. "You're involved with the boy."

"What?"

"Of course, you stupid woman, why else would you be so loyal—"

"Because I was wrong about them!"

"_EYES DON'T LIE!_" He was genuinely angry now, and Asuka shrank back in apprehension of becoming a victim again. "Tell me what you saw that night," he ground out. She swallowed nervously, and didn't understand why she complied.

"I saw my mother dying," she whispered, "and I saw a man standing over her . . . with a sword."

"A man with a cross-shaped scar and red hair."

" . . . and red hair," she repeated numbly, "but it was dark, or it could have been a wig or something . . . I was just a kid . . . and besides, he looked younger than Himura is."

"Himura? Are you friends now? And he _was_ younger then, it was years ago!"

"I know it doesn't make sense Toru, but I know it wasn't him."

"He shows you an ounce of deceiving kindness and you lose all resolve."

"It's not like that!"

"So it is the boy? I'm a little insulted by that Asuka, but you've already proven yourself to be fickle."

"You're not listening to me!" In her furious distress she hadn't realized he was moving toward her again.

"Shut up!" he bellowed, and her upraised hand did little to impede his clenched fist on its course toward her face. She toppled backward, gasping, cursing herself for being this incompetent. She was an accomplished swordswoman. Why did she always find herself falling apart when facing him?

He kicked one of her legs out of the way as he stepped forward to stand over her, drawing his sword and placing one foot firmly on her forearm. Her head was spinning; she could barely make out what he was saying.

"Don't forget that this is the second time I've spared your life," he snarled. "I'll be back when I've finished with them; I still have business with you. But if you scream I _will_ kill you."

And Asuka choked on silence as his sword for the second time struck, though fortunately this time through no organs, only her shoulder. She smirked pathetically; she must have been losing blood more quickly than she'd thought. _Only _her shoulder. Like it wasn't important.


End file.
